THE    ADVENTURES 

OF 

HUCKLEBERRY    FINN 

(TOM    SAWYER'S    COMRADE) 


SCENE :  The  Mississippi  Valley 
TIME:  Forty  to  Fifty  Years  Ago 


BY    MARK    TWAIN 


ILLUSTRATED 


NEW   YORK   AND   LONDON 
HARPER  &    BROTHERS   PUBLISHERS 


UNIFORM  EDITION  OF 
MARK      TWAIN'S      WORKS 

Red  Cloth.      Crown  8vo. 
CHRISTIAN  SCIENCE.      Illustrated.  $ 


THE  AMERICAN   CLAIMANT,  Etc. 
A  CONNECTICUT   YANKEE.     Illustrated. 
HUCKLEBERRY  FINN.      Illustrated. 
PRINCE  AND  PAUPER.      Illustrated. 
LIFE  ON  THB  MISSISSIPPI.      Illustrated. 
THE  MAN  THAT   CORRUPTED    HADLEVBURG, 

Etc.     Illustrated. 

TOM  SAWYER   ABROAD,   Etc.      Illustrated. 
ADVENTURES  OF  TOM  SAWYER.     Illustrated. 
PUDD'NHEAD   WILSON.      Illustrated. 
SKETCHES    NEW   AND    OLD.     Illustrated. 
THB  $30,000  BEQUEST,  Etc.     Illustrated. 
INNOCENTS  ABROAD.      Illustrated. 
ROUGHING  IT.     Illustrated. 
A  TRAMP  ABROAD.      Illustrated. 
THE  GILDED  AGE.      Illustrated. 
FOLLOWING  THE  EQUATOR.     Illustrated. 
JOAN  OF  ARC.      Illustrated. 

Other  Books  by  Mark  Twain 
CAPTAIN  STORMFIELD'S  VISIT  TO  HEAVEN. 

With  Frontispiece.  ) 

EDITORIAL  WILD  OATS.      Illustrated. 
A  HORSE'S  TALE.     Illustrated. 
EXTRACTS  FROM  ADAM'S  DIARY.    Illustrated. 
EVE'S  DIARY.      Illustrated. 
A  DOG'S  TALE.      Illustrated. 
THE  JUMPING  FROG.      Illustrated. 
How  TO  TELL  A  STORY,  Etc. 
A   DOUBLE-BARRELLED    DETECTIVE   STORY. 

Illustrated. 
Is  SHAKESPEARE  DEAD?  net 


Copyright,  1884,  by  SAMUEL  L.  CLEMENS. 
Copyright,  1896,  by  HARPER  &  BROTHERS. 


NOTICE 


PERSONS  attempting  to  find  a  motive  in  this  narrative  will 
be  prosecuted ;  persons  attempting  to  find  a  moral  in  it  will 
be  banished ;  persons  attempting  to  find  a  plot  in  it  will  be 
shot. 

BY  ORDER  OF  THE  AUTHOR, 

PER  G.  G.,  CHIEF  OF  ORDNANCE. 


222755' 


EXPLANATORY 


IN  this  book  a  number  of  dialects  are  used,  to  wit:  the 
Missouri  negro  dialect ;  the  extremest  form  of  the  backwoods 
Southwestern  dialect ;  the  ordinary  "  Pike  County  "  dialect ; 
and  four  modified  varieties  of  this  last.  The  shadings  have 
not  been  done  in  a  hap-hazard  fashion,  or  by  guesswork;  but 
painstakingly,  and  with  the  trustworthy  guidance  and  support 
of  personal  familiarity  with  these  several  forms  of  speech. 

I  make  this  explanation  for  the  reason  that  without  it  many 
readers  would  suppose  that  all  these  characters  were  trying  to 
talk  alike  and  not  succeeding. 

THE  AUTHOR. 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER  I 

Civilizing  Huck — Miss  Watson — Tom  Sawyer  Waits 


CHAPTER   II 
The  Boys  Escape  Jim — Tom  Sawyer's  Gang — Deep-laid  Plans .     .       6 

CHAPTER    III 

A  Good  Going-over — Grace  Triumphant—"  One  of  Tom  Sawyer's 
Lies"   .........i 14 

CHAPTER   IV 
Huck  and  the  Judge — Superstition ,,,,,,     2O 

CHAPTER  V 
Huck's  Father— The  Fond  Parent — Reform      .,,,.,,     25 

CHAPTER   VI 

He  Went  for  Judge  Thatcher — Huck  Decides  to  Leave — Political 
Economy — Thrashing  Around 31 

CHAPTER   VII 

Laying  for  Him — Locked  in  the  Cabin — Sinking  the  Body — Rest 
ing  40 

CHAPTER  VIII 

Sleeping  in  the  Woods — Raising  the  Dead — Exploring  the  Island 
— Finding  Jim — Jim's  Escape — Signs — Balum 49 


Vlll 


CHAPTER  IX  PAGE 

The  Cave— The  Floating  House 64 

CHAPTER  X 
The  Find— Old  Hank  Bunker — In  Disguise      ,     -     .     .          ,     .     70 

CHAPTER  XI 

Huck  and  the  Woman — The  Search — Prevarication — Going  to 
Goshen.  ...,,.. 75 

CHAPTER  XII 

Slow  Navigation — Borrowing  Things — Boarding  the  Wreck — The 
Plotters— Hunting  for  the  Boat 85 

CHAPTER   XIII 
Escaping  from  the  Wreck — The  Watchman — Sinking      ....     95 

CHAPTER   XIV 
A  General  Good  Time — The  Harem — French   .......   102 

CHAPTER  XV 
Huck  Loses  the  Raft— In  the  Fog— Huck  Finds  the  Raft— Trash  108 

CHAPTER  XVI 

Expectation — A  White  Lie — Floating  Currency — Running  by  Cairo 
— Swimming  Ashore 116 

CHAPTER   XVII 

An  Evening  Call — The  Farm  in  Arkansaw — Interio::  Decorations 
— Stephen  Bowling  Bots — Poetical  Effusions 128 

CHAPTER   XVIII 

Col.  Grangerford — Aristocracy — Feuds — The  Testament — Recov 
ering  the  Raft — The  Wood-pile — Pork  and  Cabbage  .  .  .  140 

CHAPTER   XIX 

Tying  Up  Daytimes  —  An  Astronomical  Theory  —  Running  a 
Temperance  Revival — The  Duke  of  Bridgewater — The  Trou 
bles  of  Royalty 156 


CHAPTER   XX  PAGE 

Huck  Explains — Laying  Out  a  Campaign — Working  the  Camp- 
meeting — A  Pirate  at  the  Camp-meeting — The  Duke  as  a 
Printer 168 

CHAPTER   XXI 

Sword  Exercise — Hamlet's  Soliloquy — They  Loafed  Around  Town 
— A  Lazy  Town — Old  Boggs — Dead 180 

CHAPTER   XXII 

Sherburn — Attending  the  Circus — Intoxication  in  the  Ring — The 
Thrilling  Tragedy 193 

CHAPTER   XXIII 
Sold — Royal  Comparisons — Jim  Gets  Homesick 2OI 

CHAPTER   XXIV 

Jim  in  Royal  Robes — They  Take  a  Passenger — Getting  Informa 
tion — Family  Grief 209 

CHAPTER   XXV 

Is  It  Them  ? — Singing  the  ' '  Doxologer  " — Awful  Square — Funeral 
Orgies — A  Bad  Investment 217 

CHAPTER  XXVI 

A  Pious  King — The  King's  Clergy — She   Asked   His   Pardon — 
Hiding  in  the  Room — Huck  Takes  the  Money 227 

CHAPTER   XXVII 

The  Funeral — Satisfying  Curiosity — Suspicious  of  Huck — Quick 
Sales  and  Small  Profits 238 

CHAPTER   XXVIII 

The  Trip  to  England — "  The  Brute  !" — Mary  Jane  Decides  to 
Leave — Huck  Parting  with  Mary  Jane — Mumps — The  Op 
position  Line 347 

CHAPTER   XXIX 

Contested  Relationship — The  King  Explains  the  Loss — A  Question 
of  Handwriting — Digging  up  the  Corpse — Huck  Escapes  .  .  260 


CHAPTER  XXX  PAGE 

The  King  Went  for  Him — A  Royal  Row — Powerful  Mellow    .     .  273 

CHAPTER   XXXI 

Ominous  Plans — News  from  Jim — Old  Recollections — A   Sheep 
Story — Valuable  Information 278 

CHAPTER   XXXII 

Still  and  Sunday-like — Mistaken   Identity — Up   a   Stump — In   a 
Dilemma 290 

CHAPTER   XXXIII 

A  Nigger  Stealer — Southern  Hospitality — A  Pretty  Long  Blessing 
— Tar  and  Feathers 298 

CHAPTER  XXXIV 

The  Hut  by  the  Ash-hopper — Outrageous — Climbing  the  Light 
ning-rod — Troubled  with  Witches 308 

CHAPTER   XXXV 

Escaping  Properly — Dark  Schemes — Discrimination  in  Stealing — 
A  Deep  Hole 316 

CHAPTER   XXXVI 

The  Lightning-rod — His  Level  Best — A  Bequest  to  Posterity — A 
High  Figure 326 

CHAPTER   XXXVII 
The  Last  Shirt— Mooning  Around— Sailing  Orders— The  Witch  Pie  333 

CHAPTER  XXXVIII 

The  Coat  of  Arms — A  Skilled  Superintendent — Unpleasant  Glory 
— A  Tearful  Subject 342 

CHAPTER   XXXIX 
Rats — Lively  Bed-fellows — The  Straw  Dummy 351 

CHAPTER  XL 

Fishing — The  Vigilance  Committee — A  Lively  Run — Jim  Advises 
a  Doctor 358 


XI 


CHAPTER   XLI  PAGB 

The  Doctor— Uncle  Silas— Sister   Hotchkiss  —  Aunt   Sally  in 
Trouble    v    .    „     ..    .    „ „..„,..  366 

CHAPTER   XLII 

Tom  Sawyer  Wounded — The  Doctor's  Story — Tom  Confesses — 
Aunt  Polly  Arrives — Hand  Out  Them  Letters  ....,,  375 

CHAPTER    THE    LAST 
Out  of  Bondage— Paying  the  Captive — Yours  Truly,  Huck  Finn  -  ^86 


ILLUSTRATIONS 


PORTRAIT   OF  THE   AUTHOR         

Frontispiece 

TOM  SAWYER'S  BAND  OF  ROBBERS    .     .     . 

Facing  page 

IO 

THE    ROBBERS   DISPERSED      

a 

16 

SOLID    COMFORT        

n 

32 

HUCKLEBERRY   FINN    

u 

42 

JIM    AND  THE   GHOST  

H 

56 

MISTO  BRADISH'S  NIGGER    

« 

62 

JIM    SEES   A   DEAD    MAN    

it 

66 

"A  FAIR  FIT"  

« 

72 

"  '  HELLO,  WHAT'S  UP  ?'  "     

U 

98 

"WE   TURNED    IN   AND   SLEPT"       .... 

U 

1  02 

SOLOMON    AND  HIS    MILLION    WIVES    .       .       . 

(4 

104 

AMONG  THE   SNAGS       

it 

no 

YOUNG    HARNEY   SHEPHERDSON      .... 

M 

146 

"AND  DOGS  A-COMING"  

(1 

1  60 

"'l   AM    THE    LATE   DAUPHIN'"     .... 

t4 

164 

"COURTING  ON  THE  SLY"  .     .     .     .     .     . 

n 

174 

HAMLET'S  SOLILOQUY      

tf 

182 

"'GIMME  A  CHAW'"  

U 

186 

THE   DUKE   LOOKS   UNDER    THE    BED        .      . 

U 

234 

THE   AUCTION      

U 

258 

"SHE   HUGGED  HIM   TIGHT"      

(1 

292 

THE    BREAKFAST-HORN     

u 

322 

TOM   ADVISES   A  WITCH    PIE        

it 

332 

"  YOURS   TRULY,  HUCK    FINN  "  

it 

384 

THE  ADVENTURES  OF 

HUCKLEBERRY    FINN 


CHAPTER  I 

YOU  don't  know  about  me  without  you  have  read  a 
book  by  the  name  of  The  Adventures  of  Tom  Sawyer; 
but  that  ain't  no  matter.  That  book  was  made 
by  Mr.  Mark  Twain,  and  he  told  the  truth,  mainly. 
There  was  things  which  he  stretched,  but  mainly  he 
told  the  truth.  That  is  nothing.  I  never  seen  any 
body  but  lied  one  time  or  another,  without  it  was 
Aunt  Polly,  or  the  widow,  or  maybe  Mary.  Aunt 
Polly — Tom's  Aunt  Polly,  she  is — and  Mary,  and 
the  Widow  Douglas  is  all  told  about  in  that  book, 
which  is  mostly  a  true  book,  with  some  stretchers,  as 
I  said  before. 

Now  the  way  that  the  book  winds  up  is  this :  Tom 
and  me  found  the  money  that  the  robbers  hid  in  the 
cave,  and  it  made  us  rich.  We  got  six  thousand  dol 
lars  apiece — all  gold.  It  was  an  awful  sight  of  money 
when  it  was  piled  up.  Well,  Judge  Thatcher  he  took 
it  and  put  it  out  at  interest,  and  it  fetched  us  a  dollar 
a  day  apiece  all  the  year  round — more  than  a  body 
could  tell  what  to  do  with.  The  Widow  Douglas  she 

I  HP 


took  me  for  her  son,  and  allowed  she  would  sivilize 
me ;  but  it  was  rough  living  in  the  house  all  the  time, 
considering  how  dismal  regular  and  decent  the  widow 
was  in  all  her  ways ;  and  so  when  I  couldn't  stand  it 
no  longer  I  lit  out.  I  got  into  my  old  rags  and  my 
sugar-hogshead  again,  and  was  free  and  satisfied.  But 
Tom  Sawyer  he  hunted  me  up  and  said  he  was  going 
to  start  a  band  of  robbers,  and  I  might  join  if  I  would 
go  back  to  the  widow  and  be  respectable.  So  I  went 
back. 

The  widow  she  cried  over  me,  and  called  me  a 
poor  lost  lamb,  and  she  called  me  a  lot  of  other 
names,  too,  but  she  never  meant  no  harm  by  it.  She 
put  me  in  them  new  clothes  again,  and  I  couldn't  do 
nothing  but  sweat  and  sweat,  and  feel  all  cramped  up. 
Well,  then,  the  old  thing  commenced  again.  The 
widow  rung  a  bell  for  supper,  and  you  had  to  come  to 
time.  When  you  got  to  the  table  you  couldn't  go 
right  to  eating,  but  you  had  to  wait  for  the  widow 
to  tuck  down  her  head  and  grumble  a  little  over  the 
victuals,  though  there  warn't  really  anything  the  mat 
ter  with  them, — that  is,  nothing,  only  everything  was 
cooked  by  itself.  In  a  barrel  of  odds  and  ends  it  is 
different ;  things  get  mixed  up,  and  the  juice  kind  of 
swaps  around,  and  the  things  go  better. 

After  supper  she  got  out  her  book  and  learned  me 
about  Moses  and  the  Bulrushers,  and  I  was  in  a 
sweat  to  find  out  all  about  him ;  but  by-and-by  she 
let  it  out  that  Moses  had  been  dead  a  considerable 
long  time ;  so  then  I  didn't  care  no  more  about  him, 
because  I  don't  take  no  stock  in  dead  people. 

Pretty  soon  I  wanted  to  smoke,  and  asked  the 
widow  to  let  me.  But  she  wouldn't.  She  said  it  was 


a  mean  practice  and  wasn't  clean,  and  I  must  try  to 
not  do  it  any  more.  That  is  just  the  way  with  some 
people.  They  get  down  on  a  thing  when  they  don't 
know  nothing  about  it.  Here  she  was  a-bothering 
about  Moses,  which  was  no  kin  to  her,  and  no  use  to 
anybody,  being  gone,  you  see,  yet  finding  a  power  of 
fault  with  me  for  doing  a  thing  that  had  some  good 
in  it.  And  she  took  snuff,  too  ;  of  course  that  was  all 
right,  because  she  done  it  herself. 

Her  sister,  Miss  Watson,  a  tolerable  slim  old  maid, 
with  goggles  on,  had  just  come  to  live  with  her,  and 
took  a  set  at  me  now  with  a  spelling-book.  She 
worked  me  middling  hard  for  about  an  hour,  and 
then  the  widow  made  her  ease  up.  I  couldn't  stood 
it  much  longer.  Then  for  an  hour  it  was  deadly  dull, 
and  I  was  fidgety.  Miss  Watson  would  say,  "  Don't 
put  your  feet  up  there,  Huckleberry ;"  and  "  Don't 
scrunch  up  like  that,  Huckleberry — set  up  straight ;" 
and  pretty  soon  she  would  say,  "  Don't  gap  and 
stretch  like  that,  Huckleberry — why  don't  you  try  to 
behave  ?"  Then  she  told  me  all  about  the  bad  place, 
and  I  said  I  wished  I  was  there.  She  got  mad  then, 
but  I  didn't  mean  no  harm.  All  I  wanted  was  to  go 
somewheres ;  all  I  wanted  was  a  change,  I  warn't  par 
ticular.  She  said  it  was  wicked  to  say  what  I  said ; 
said  she  wouldn't  say  it  for  the  whole  world ;  she  was 
going  to  live  so  as  to  go  to  the  good  place.  Well,  I 
couldn't  see  no  advantage  in  going  where  she  was 
going,  so  I  made  up  my  mind  I  wouldn't  try  for  it. 
But  I  never  said  so,  because  it  would  only  make  trou 
ble,  and  wouldn't  do  no  good. 

Now  she  had  got  a  start,  and  she  went  on  and  told 
me  all  about  the  good  place.  She  said  all  a  body 


would  have  to  do  there  was  to  go  around  all  day  long 
with  a  harp  and  sing,  for  ever  and  ever.  So  I  didn't 
think  much  of  it.  But  I  never  said  so.  I  asked  her 
if  she  reckoned  Tom  Sawyer  would  go  there,  and  she 
said  not  by  a  considerable  sight.  I  was  glad  about 
that,  because  I  wanted  him  and  me  to  be  together. 

Miss  Watson  she  kept  pecking  at  me,  and  it  got 
tiresome  and  lonesome.  By-and-by  they  fetched  the 
niggers  in  and  had  prayers,  and  then  everybody  was 
off  to  bed.  I  went  up  to  my  room  with  a  piece  of 
candle,  and  put  it  on  the  table.  Then  I  set  down  in 
a  chair  by  the  window  and  tried  to  think  of  some 
thing  cheerful,  but  it  warn't  no  use.  I  felt  so  lone 
some  I  most  wished  I  was  dead.  The  stars  were 
shining,  and  the  leaves  rustled  in  the  woods  ever  so 
mournful ;  and  I  heard  an  owl,  away  off,  who-whoo- 
ing  about  somebody  that  was  dead,  and  a  whippowill 
and  a  dog  crying  about  somebody  that  was  going  to 
die ;  and  the  wind  was  trying  to  whisper  something 
to  me,  and  I  couldn't  make  out  what  it  was,  and  so  it 
made  the  cold  shivers  run  over  me.  Then  away  out 
in  the  woods  I  heard  that  kind  of  a  sound  that  a  ghost 
makes  when  it  wants  to  tell  about  something  that's  on 
its  mind  and  can't  make  itself  understood,  and  so  can't 
rest  easy  in  its  grave,  and  has  to  go  about  that  way 
every  night  grieving.  I  got  so  down-hearted  and 
scared  I  did  wish  I  had  some  company.  Pretty  soon 
a  spider  went  crawling  up  my  shoulder,  and  I  flipped  it 
off  and  it  lit  in  the  candle ;  and  before  I  could  budge 
it  was  all  shrivelled  up.  I  didn't  need  anybody  to  tell 
me  that  that  was  an  awful  bad  sign  and  would  fetch 
me  some  bad  luck,  so  I  was  scared  and  most  shook  the 
clothes  off  of  me.  I  got  up  and  turned  around  in  my 


tracks  three  times  and  crossed  my  breast  every  time ; 
and  then  I  tied  up  a  little  lock  of  my  hair  with  a 
thread  to  keep  witches  away.  But  I  hadn't  no  confi 
dence.  You  do  that  when  you've  lost  a  horseshoe 
that  you've  found,  instead  of  nailing  it  up  over  the 
door,  but  I  hadn't  ever  heard  anybody  say  it  was  any 
way  to  keep  off  bad  luck  when  you'd  killed  a  spider. 
I  set  down  again,  a-shaking  all  over,  and  got  out 
my  pipe  for  a  smoke :  for  the  house  was  all  as  still  as 
death  now,  and  so  the  widow  wouldn't  know.  Well, 
after  a  long  time  I  heard  the  clock  away  off  in  the 
town  go  boom — boom — boom — twelve  licks ;  and  all 
still  again — stiller  than  ever.  Pretty  soon  I  heard  a 
twig  snap  down  in  the  dark  amongst  the  trees — some 
thing  was  a  stirring.  I  set  still  and  listened.  Directly 
I  could  just  barely  hear  a  "  me-yow  f  me-yow  !"  down 
there.  That  was  good!  Says  I,  "  me-yow  !  me-yow  /" 
as  soft  as  I  could,  and  then  I  put  out  the  light  and 
scrambled  out  of  the  window  on  to  the  shed.  Then  I 
slipped  down  to  the  ground  and  crawled  in  among 
the  trees,  and,  sure  enough,  there  was  Tom  Sawyer 
waiting  for  me. 


CHAPTER    II 

WE  went  tip-toeing  along  a  path  amongst  the  trees 
back  towards  the  end  of  the  widow's  garden,  stoop 
ing  down  so  as  the  branches  wouldn't  scrape  our  heads. 
When  we  was  passing  by  the  kitchen  I  fell  over  a 
root  and  made  a  noise.  We  scrouched  down  and  laid 
still.  Miss  Watson's  big  nigger,  named  Jim,  was  set 
ting  in  the  kitchen  door  ;  we  could  see  him  pretty 
clear,  because  there  was  a  light  behind  him.  He  got 
up  and  stretched  his  neck  out  about  a  minute,  listen 
ing.  Then  he  says : 

"Who  dah?" 

He  listened  some  more ;  then  he  come  tip-toeing 
down  and  stood  right  between  us ;  we  could  a  touched 
him,  nearly.  Well,  likely  it  was  minutes  and  minutes 
that  there  warn't  a  sound,  and  we  all  there  so  close 
together.  There  was  a  place  on  my  ankle  that  got 
to  itching,  but  I  dasn't  scratch  it ;  and  then  my  ear 
begun  to  itch ;  and  next  my  back,  right  between  my 
shoulders.  Seemed  like  I'd  die  if  I  couldn't  scratch. 
Well,  I've  noticed  that  thing  plenty  times  since.  If 
you  are  with  the  quality,  or  at  a  funeral,  or  trying  to 
go  to  sleep  when  you  ain't  sleepy — if  you  are  any 
wheres  where  it  won't  do  for  you  to  scratch,  why 
you  will  itch  all  over  in  upwards  of  a  thousand  places. 
Pretty  soon  Jim  says : 

"Say,  who  is  you?     Whar  is  you?     Dog  my  cats 


ef  I  didn'  hear  sumf'n.  Well,  I  know  what  I's  gwyne 
to  do :  I's  gwyne  to  set  down  here  and  listen  tell  I 
hears  it  agin." 

So  he  set  down  on  the  ground  betwixt  me  and 
Tom.  He  leaned  his  back  up  against  a  tree,  and 
stretched  his  legs  out  till  one  of  them  most  touched 
one  of  mine.  My  nose  begun  to  itch.  It  itched  till 
the  tears  come  into  my  eyes.  But  I  dasn't  scratch. 
Then  it  begun  to  itch  on  the  inside.  Next  I  got  to 
itching  underneath.  I  didn't  know  how  I  was  going 
to  set  still.  This  miserableness  went  on  as  much  as 
six  or  seven  minutes ;  but  it  seemed  a  sight  longer 
than  that.  I  was  itching  in  eleven  different  places 
now.  I  reckoned  I  couldn't  stand  it  more'n  a  minute 
longer,  but  I  set  my  teeth  hard  and  got  ready  to  try. 
Just  then  Jim  begun  to  breathe  heavy;  next  he 
begun  to  snore — and  then  I  was  pretty  soon  comfort 
able  again. 

Tom  he  made  a  sign  to  me — kind  of  a  little  noise 
with  his  mouth — and  we  went  creeping  away  on  our 
hands  and  knees.  When  we  was  ten  foot  off  Tom 
whispered  to  me,  and  wanted  to  tie  Jim  to  the  tree 
for  fun.  But  I  said  no;  he  might  wake  and  make  a 
disturbance,  and  then  they'd  find  out  I  warn't  in. 
Then  Tom  said  he  hadn't  got  candles  enough,  and 
he  would  slip  in  the  kitchen  and  get  some  more.  I 
didn't  want  him  to  try.  I  said  Jim  might  wake  up 
and  come.  But  Tom  wanted  to  resk  it;  so  we  slid 
in  there  and  got  three  candles,  and  Tom  laid  five 
cents  on  the  table  for  pay.  Then  we  got  out,  and  I 
was  in  a  sweat  to  get  away ;  but  nothing  would  do 
Tom  but  he  must  crawl  to  where  Jim  was,  on  his 
hands  and  knees,  and  play  something  on  him.  I 


8 


waited,  and  it  seemed  a  good  while,  everything  was 
so  still  and  lonesome. 

As  soon  as  Tom  was  back  we  cut  along  the  path, 
around  the  garden  fence,  and  by-and-by  fetched  up 
on  the  steep  top  of  the  hill  the  other  side  of  the 
house.  Tom  said  he  slipped  Jim's  hat  off  of  his  head 
and  hung  it  on  a  limb  right  over  him,  and  Jim  stirred 
a  little,  but  he  didn't^wake.  Afterwards  Jim  said  the 
witches  bewitched  him  and  put  him  in  a  trance,  and 
rode  him  all  over  the  State,  and  then  set  him  under 
the  trees  again,  and  hung  his  hat  on  a  limb  to  show 
who  done  it.  And  next  time  Jim  told  it  he  said  they 
rode  him  down  to  New  Orleans ;  and,  after  that,  every 
time  he  told  it  he  spread  it  more  and  more,  till  by- 
and-by  he  said  they  rode  him  all  over  the  world,  and 
tired  him  most  to  death,  and  his  back  was  all  over 
saddle-boils.  Jim  was  monstrous  proud  about  it,  and 
he  got  so  he  wouldn't  hardly  notice  the  other  niggers. 
Niggers  would  come  miles  to  hear  Jim  tell  about  it, 
and  he  was  more  looked  up  to  than  any  nigger  in 
that  country.  Strange  niggers  would  stand  with  their 
mouths  open  and  look  him  all  over,  same  as  if  he  was 
a  wonder.  Niggers  is  always  talking  about  witches  in 
the  dark  by  the  kitchen  fire ;  but  whenever  one  was 
talking  and  letting  on  to  know  all  about  such  things, 
Jim  would  happen  in  and  say,  "  Hm !  What  you 
know  'bout  witches  ?"  and  that  nigger  was  corked  up 
and  had  to  take  a  back  seat.  Jim  always  kept  that  five- 
center  piece  round  his  neck  with  a  string,  and  said  it 
was  a  charm  the  devil  give  to  him  with  his  own  hands, 
and  told  him  he  could  cure  anybody  with  it  and  fetch 
witches  whenever  he  wanted  to  just  by  saying  some 
thing  to  it;  but  he  never  told  what  it  was  he  said 


to  it.  Niggers  would  come  from  all  around  there  and 
give  Jim  anything  they  had,  just  for  a  sight  of  that 
five-center  piece;  but  they  wouldn't  touch  it,  because 
the  devil  had  had  his  hands  on  it.  Jim  was  most 
ruined  for  a  servant,  because  he  got  so  stuck  up  on 
account  of  having  seen  the  devil  and  been  rode  by 
witches. 

Well,  when  Tom  and  me  got  to  the  edge  of  the  hill 
top  we  looked  away  down  into  the  village  and  could 
see  three  or  four  lights  twinkling,  where  there  was 
sick  folks,  maybe ;  and  the  stars  over  us  was  spar 
kling  ever  so  fine ;  and  down  by  the  village  was  the 
river,  a  whole  mile  broad,  and  awful  still  and  grand. 
We  went  down  the  hill  and  found  Jo  Harper  and 
Ben  Rogers,  and  two  or  three  more  of  the  boys,  hid 
in  the  old  tanyard.  So  we  unhitched  a  skiff  and 
pulled  down  the  river  two  mile  and  a  half,  to  the  big 
scar  on  the  hill-side,  and  went  ashore. 

We  went  to  a  clump  of  bushes,  and  Tom  made 
everybody  swear  to  keep  the  secret,  and  then  showed 
them  a  hole  in  the  hill,  right  in  the  thickest  part  of 
the  bushes.  Then  we  lit  the  candles,  and  crawled  in 
on  our  hands  and  knees.  We  went  about  two  hun 
dred  yards,  and  then  the  cave  opened  up.  Tom 
poked  about  amongst  the  passages,  and  pretty  soon 
ducked  under  a  wall  where  you  wouldn't  a  noticed 
that  there  was  a  hole.  We  went  along  a  narrow  place 
and  got  into  a  kind  of  room,  all  damp  and  sweaty  and 
cold,  and  there  we  stopped.  Tom  says : 

"  Now  we'll  start  this  band  of  robbers  and  call  it 
Tom  Sawyer's  Gang.  Everybody  that  wants  to  join 
has  got  to  take  an  oath,  and  write  his  name  in  blood." 

Everybody  was  willing.     So  Tom  got  out  a  sheet 


IO 


of  paper  that  he  had  wrote  the  oath  on,  and  read  it. 
It  swore  every  boy  to  stick  to  the  band,  and  never 
tell  any  of  the  secrets  ;  and  if  anybody  done  anything 
to  any  boy  in  the  band,  whichever  boy  was  ordered 
to  kill  that  person  and  his  family  must  do  it,  and  he 
mustn't  eat  and  he  mustn't  sleep  till  he  had  killed 
them  and  hacked  a  cross  in  their  breasts,  which  was 
the  sign  of  the  band.  And  nobody  that  didn't  belong 
to  the  band  could  use  that  mark,  and  if  he  did  he 
must  be  sued ;  and  if  he  done  it  again  he  must  be 
killed.  And  if  anybody  that  belonged  to  the  band 
told  the  secrets,  he  must  have  his  throat  cut,  and  then 
have  his  carcass  burnt  up  and  the  ashes  scattered  all 
around,  and  his  name  blotted  off  of  the  list  with  blood 
and  never  mentioned  again  by  the  gang,  but  have  a 
curse  put  on  it  and  be  forgot  forever. 

Everybody  said  it  was  a  real  beautiful  oath,  and 
asked  Tom  if  he  got  it  out  of  his  own  head.  He 
said,  some  of  it,  but  the  rest  was  out  of  pirate  books 
and  robber  books,  and  every  gang  that  was  high- 
toned  had  it. 

Some  thought  it  would  be  good  to  kill  the  families 
of  boys  that  told  the  secrets.  Tom  said  it  was  a  good 
idea,  so  he  took  a  pencil  and  wrote  it  in.  Then  Ben 
Rogers  says: 

"  Here's  Huck  Finn,  he  hain't  got  no  family  ;  what 
you  going  to  do  'bout  him  ?" 

"  Well,  hain't  he  got  a  father?"  says  Tom  Sawyer. 

"  Yes,  he's  got  a  father,  but  you  can't  never  find 
him  these  days.  He  used  to  lay  drunk  with  the  hogs 
in  the  tanyard,  but  he  hain't  been  seen  in  these  parts 
for  a  year  or  more." 

They  talked  it  over,  and  they  was  going  to  rule  me 


II 


out,  because  they  said  every  boy  must  have  a  family 
or  somebody  to  kill,  or  else  it  wouldn't  be  fair  and 
square  for  the  others.  Well,  nobody  could  think  of 
anything  to  do — everybody  was  stumped,  and  set  still. 
I  was  most  ready  to  cry ;  but  all  at  once  I  thought 
of  a  way,  and  so  I  offered  them  Miss  Watson — they 
could  kill  her.  Everybody  said  : 

"  Oh,  she'll  do.  That's  all  right.  Huck  can  come 
in." 

Then  they  all  stuck  a  pin  in  their  fingers  to  get 
blood  to  sign  with,  and  I  made  my  mark  on  the  paper. 

"  Now,"  says  Ben  Rogers,  "  what's  the  line  of  busi 
ness  of  this  Gang  ?" 

"  Nothing  only  robbery  and  murder,"  Tom  said. 

"  But  who  are  we  going  to  rob  ? — houses,  or  cattle, 
or—  " 

"  Stuff !  stealing  cattle  and  such  things  ain't  rob 
bery  ;  it's  burglary,"  says  Tom  Sawyer.  "  We  ain't 
burglars.  That  ain't  no  sort  of  style.  We  are  high 
waymen.  We  stop  stages  and  carriages  on  the  road, 
with  masks  on,  and  kill  the  people  and  take  their 
watches  and  money." 

"  Must  we  always  kill  the  people  ?" 

"  Oh,  certainly.  It's  best.  Some  authorities  think 
different,  but  mostly  it's  considered  best  to  kill  them 
— except  some  that  you  bring  to  the  cave  here,  and 
keep  them  till  they're  ransomed." 

"  Ransomed  ?     What's  that  ?" 

"  I  don't  know.  But  that's  what  they  do.  I've  seen 
it  in  books;  and  so  of  course  that's  what  we've  got 
to  do." 

"  But  how  can  we  do  it  if  we  don't  know  what  it 
is?" 


12 


"  Why,  blame  it  all,  we've  got  to  do  it.  Don't  I  tell 
you  it's  in  the  books  ?  Do  you  want  to  go  to  doing 
different  from  what's  in  the  books,  and  get  things  all 
muddled  up  ?" 

"  Oh,  that's  all  very  fine  to  say,  Tom  Sawyer,  but 
how  in  the  nation  are  these  fellows  going  to  be  ran 
somed  if  we  don't  know  how  to  do  it  to  them  ? — that's 
the  thing  /  want  to  get  at.  Now,  what  do  you  reckon 
it  is?" 

"  Well,  I  don't  know.  But  per'aps  if  we  keep  them 
till  they're  ransomed,  it  means  that  we  keep  them  till 
they're  dead." 

"  Now,  that's  something  like.  That  '11  answer.  Why 
couldn't  you  said  that  before?  We'll  keep  them  till 
they're  ransomed  to  death ;  and  a  bothersome  lot 
they'll  be,  too — eating  up  everything,  and  always  try 
ing  to  get  loose." 

"  How  you  talk,  Ben  Rogers.  How  can  they  get 
loose  when  there's  a  guard  over  them,  ready  to  shoot 
them  down  if  they  move  a  peg  ?" 

"  A  guard  !  Well,  that  is  good.  So  somebody's 
got  to  set  up  all  night  and  never  get  any  sleep,  just  so 
as  to  watch  them.  I  think  that's  foolishness.  Why 
can't  a  body  take  a  club  and  ransom  them  as  soon  as 
they  get  here  ?" 

"  Because  it  ain't  in  the  books  so  —  that's  why. 
Now,  Ben  Rogers,  do  you  want  to  do  things  regular, 
or  don't  you? — that's  the  idea.  Don't  you  reckon 
that  the  people  that  made  the  books  knows  what's 
the  correct  thing  to  do?  Do  you  reckon  you  can 
learn  'em  anything?  Not  by  a  good  deal.  No,  sir, 
we'll  just  go  on  and  ransom  them  in  the  regular 
way." 


"  All  right.  I  don't  mind ;  but  I  say  it's  a  fool  way, 
anyhow.  Say,  do  we  kill  the  women,  too?" 

"  Well,  Ben  Rogers,  if  I  was  as  ignorant  as  you  I 
wouldn't  let  on.  Kill  the  women  ?  No ;  nobody 
ever  saw  anything  in  the  books  like  that.  You  fetch 
them  to  the  cave,  and  you're  always  as  polite  as  pie 
to  them ;  and  by-and-by  they  fall  in  love  with  you, 
and  never  want  to  go  home  any  more." 

"  Well,  if  that's  the  way  I'm  agreed,  but  I  don't 
take  no  stock  in  it.  Mighty  soon  we'll  have  the  cave 
so  cluttered  up  with  women,  and  fellows  waiting  to  be 
ransomed,  that  there  won't  be  no  place  for  the  rob 
bers.  But  go  ahead,  I  ain't  got  nothing  to  say." 

Little  Tommy  Barnes  was  asleep  now,  and  when 
they  waked  him  up  he  was  scared,  and  cried,  and  said 
he  wanted  to  go  home  to  his  ma,  and  didn't  want  to 
be  a  robber  any  more. 

So  they  all  made  fun  of  him,  and  called  him  cry 
baby,  and  that  made  him  mad,  and  he  said  he  would 
go  straight  and  tell  all  the  secrets.  But  Tom  give 
him  five  cents  to  keep  quiet,  and  said  we  would  all  go 
home  and  meet  next  week,  and  rob  somebody  and 
kill  some  people. 

Ben  Rogers  said  he  couldn't  get  out  much,  only 
Sundays,  and  so  he  wanted  to  begin  next  Sunday; 
but  all  the  boys  said  it  would  be  wicked  to  do  it  on 
Sunday,  and  that  settled  the  thing.  They  agreed  to 
get  together  and  fix  a  day  as  soon  as  they  could,  and 
then  we  elected  Tom  Sawyer  first  captain  and  Jo  Har 
per  second  captain  of  the  Gang,  and  so  started  home. 

I  clumb  up  the  shed  and  crept  into  my  window 
just  before  day  was  breaking.  My  new  clothes  was 
all  greased  up  and  clayey,  and  I  was  dog-tired. 


CHAPTER    III 

WELL,  I  got  a  good  going-over  in  the  morning 
from  old  Miss  Watson  on  account  of  my  clothes ;  but 
the  widow  she  didn't  scold,  but  only  cleaned  off  the 
grease  and  clay,  and  looked  so  sorry  that  I  thought  I 
would  behave  awhile  if  I  could.  Then  Miss  Watson 
she  took  me  in  the  closet  and  prayed,  but  nothing 
come  of  it.  She  told  me  to  pray  every  day,  and  what 
ever  I  asked  for  I  would  get  it.  But  it  warn't  so.  I 
tried  it.  Once  I  got  a  fish -line,  but  no  hooks.  It 
warn't  any  good  to  me  without  hooks.  I  tried  for 
the  hooks  three  or  four  times,  but  somehow  I  couldn't 
make  it  work.  By-and-by,  one  day,  I  asked  Miss  Wat 
son  to  try  for  me,  but  she  said  I  was  a  fool.  She 
never  told  me  why,  and  I  couldn't  make  it  out  no 
way. 

I  set  down  one  time  back  in  the  woods,  and  had 
a  long  think  about  it.  I  says  to  myself,  if  a  body  can 
get  anything  they  pray  for,  why  don't  Deacon  Winn 
get  back  the  money  he  lost  on  pork  ?  Why  can't  the 
widow  get  back  her  silver  snuffbox  that  was  stole? 
Why  can't  Miss  Watson  fat  up  ?  No,  says  I  to  myself, 
there  ain't  nothing  in  it.  I  went  and  told  the  widow 
about  it,  and  she  said  the  thing  a  body  could  get  by 
praying  for  it  was  "  spiritual  gifts."  This  was  too 
many  for  me,  but  she  told  me  what  she  meant — I 
must  help  other  people,  and  do  everything  I  could 


15 

for  other  people,  and  look  out  for  them  all  the  time, 
and  never  think  about  myself.  This  was  including 
Miss  Watson,  as  I  took  it.  I  went  out  in  the  woods 
and  turned  it  over  in  my  mind  a  long  time,  but  I 
couldn't  see  no  advantage  about  it — except  for  the 
other  people  ;  so  at  last  I  reckoned  I  wouldn't  worry 
about  it  any  more,  but  just  let  it  go.  Sometimes  the 
widow  would  take  me  one  side  and  talk  about  Provi 
dence  in  a  way  to  make  a  body's  mouth  water;  but 
maybe  next  day  Miss  Watson  would  take  hold  and 
knock  it  all  down  again.  I  judged  I  could  see  that 
there  was  two  Providences,  and  a  poor  chap  would 
stand  considerable  show  with  the  widow's  Providence, 
but  if  Miss  Watson's  got  him  there  warn't  no  help 
for  him  any  more.  I  thought  it  all  out,  and  reckoned 
I  would  belong  to  the  widow's  if  he  wanted  me, 
though  I  couldn't  make  out  how  he  was  a-going  to  be 
any  better  off  then  than  what  he  was  before,  seeing  I 
was  so  ignorant,  and  so  kind  of  low-down  and  ornery. 
Pap  he  hadn't  been  seen  for  more  than  a  year,  and 
that  was  comfortable  for  me;  I  didn't  want  to  see 
him  no  more.  He  used  to  always  whale  me  when  he 
was  sober  and  could  get  his  hands  on  me ;  though  I 
used  to  take  to  the  woods  most  of  the  time  when  he 
was  around.  Well,  about  this  time  he  was  found  in 
the  river  drownded,  about  twelve  mile  above  town,  so 
people  said.  They  judged  it  was  him,  anyway ;  said 
this  drownded  man  was  just  his  size,  and  was  ragged, 
and  had  uncommon  long  hair,  which  was  all  like  pap ; 
but  they  couldn't  make  nothing  out  of  the  face, 
because  it  had  been  in  the  water  so  long  it  warn't 
much  like  a  face  at  all.  They  said  he  was  floating  on 
his  back  in  the  water.  They  took  him  and  buried 


i6 


him  on  the  bank.  But  I  warn't  comfortable  long,  be 
cause  I  happened  to  think  of  something.  I  knowed 
mighty  well  that  a  drownded  man  don't  float  on  his 
back,  but  on  his  face.  So  I  knowed,  then,  that  this 
warn't  pap,  but  a  woman  dressed  up  in  a  man's 
clothes.  So  I  was  uncomfortable  again.  I  judged  the 
old  man  would  turn  up  again  by-and-by,  though  I 
wished  he  wouldn't. 

We  played  robber  now  and  then  about  a  month, 
and  then  I  resigned.  All  the  boys  did.  We  hadn't 
robbed  nobody,  hadn't  killed  any  people,  but  only 
just  pretended.  We  used  to  hop  out  of  the  woods 
and  go  charging  down  on  hog-drivers  and  women  in 
carts  taking  garden  stuff  to  market,  but  we  never 
hived  any  of  them.  Tom  Sawyer  called  the  hogs 
"ingots,"  and  he  called  the  turnips  and  stuff  "julery," 
and  we  would  go  to  the  cave  and  pow-wow  over  what 
we  had  done,  and  how  many  people  we  had  killed 
and  marked.  But  I  couldn't  see  no  profit  in  it.  One 
time  Tom  sent  a  boy  to  run  about  town  with  a  blaz 
ing  stick,  which  he  called  a  slogan  (which  was  the 
sign  for  the  Gang  to  get  together),  and  then  he  said 
he  had  got  secret  news  by  his  spies  that  next  day  a 
whole  parcel  of  Spanish  merchants  and  rich  A-rabs 
was  going  to  camp  in  Cave  Hollow  with  two  hundred 
elephants,  and  six  hundred  camels,  and  over  a  thou 
sand  "  sumter  "  mules,  all  loaded  down  with  di'monds, 
and  they  didn't  have  only  a  guard  of  four  hundred 
soldiers,  and  so  we  would  lay  in  ambuscade,  as  he 
called  it,  and  kill  the  lot  and  scoop  the  things.  He 
said  we  must  slick  up  our  swords  and  guns,  and  get 
ready.  He  never  could  go  after  even  a  turnip-cart  but 
he  must  have  the  swords  and  guns  all  scoured  up  for  it, 


THE    ROBBERS    DISPERSED 


17 

though  they  was  only  lath  and  broomsticks,  and  you 
might  scour  at  them  till  you  rotted,  and  then  they 
warn't  worth  a  mouthful  of  ashes  more  than  what 
they  was  before.  I  didn't  believe  we  could  lick  such 
a  crowd  of  Spaniards  and  A-rabs,  but  I  wanted  to  see 
the  camels  and  elephants,  so  I  was  on  hand  next  day, 
Saturday,  in  the  ambuscade ;  and  when  we  got  the 
word  we  rushed  out  of  the  woods  and  down  the  hill. 
But  there  warn't  no  Spaniards  and  A-rabs,  and  there 
warn't  no  camels  nor  no  elephants.  It  warn't  any 
thing  but  a  Sunday-school  picnic,  and  only  a  primer- 
class  at  that.  We  busted  it  up,  and  chased  the  chil 
dren  up  the  hollow ;  but  we  never  got  anything  but 
some  doughnuts  and  jam,  though  Ben  Rogers  got  a 
rag  doll,  and  Jo  Harper  got  a  hymn-book  and  a  tract ; 
and  then  the  teacher  charged  in,  and  made  us  drop 
everything  and  cut.  I  didn't  see  no  di'monds,  and  I 
told  Tom  Sawyer  so.  He  said  there  was  loads  of 
them  there,  anyway ;  and  he  said  there  was  A-rabs 
there,  too,  and  elephants  and  things.  I  said,  why 
couldn't  we  see  them,  then  ?  He  said  if  I  warn't  so 
ignorant,  but  had  read  a  book  called  Don  Quixote, 
I  would  know  without  asking.  He  said  it  was  all 
done  by  enchantment.  He  said  there  was  hun 
dreds  of  sodiers  there,  and  elephants  and  treasure, 
and  so  on,  but  we  had  enemies  which  he  called  ma 
gicians,  and  they  had  turned  the  whole  thing  into 
an  infant  Sunday-school,  just  out  of  spite.  I  said, 
all  right;  then  the  thing  for  us  to  do  was  to  go 
for  the  magicians.  Tom  Sawyer  said  I  was  a  num 
skull. 

"  Why,"  says  he,  "  a  magician  could  call  up  a  lot  of 
genies,  and  they  would  hash  you  up  like  nothing  be- 

2HF 


fore  you  could  say  Jack  Robinson.  They  are  uo  tall 
as  a  tree  and  as  big  around  as  a  church." 

"  Well,"  I  says,  "  s'pose  we  got  some  genies  to  help 
us — can't  we  lick  the  other  crowd  then?" 

"  How  you  going  to  get  them  ?" 

"  I  don't  know.     How  do  they  get  them  ?" 

"  Why,  they  rub  an  old  tin  lamp  or  an  iron  ring, 
and  then  the  genies  come  tearing  in,  with  the  thunder 
and  lightning  a-ripping  around  and  the  smoke  a-roll- 
ing,  and  everything  they're  told  to  do  they  up  and  do 
it.  They  don't  think  nothing  of  pulling  a  shot-tower 
up  by  the  roots,  and  belting  a  Sunday-school  superin 
tendent  over  the  head  with  it — or  any  other  man." 

"Who  makes  them  tear  around  so?" 

"Why,  whoever  rubs  the  lamp  or  the  ring.  They 
belong  to  whoever  rubs  the  lamp  or  the  ring,  and 
they've  got  to  do  whatever  he  says.  If  he  tells  them 
to  build  a  palace  forty  miles  long  out  of  di'monds, 
and  fill  it  full  of  chewing-gum,  or  whatever  you  want, 
and  fetch  an  emperor's  daughter  from  China  for  you 
to  marry,  they've  got  to  do  it — and  they've  got  to  do 
it  before  sun-up  next  morning,  too.  And  more: 
they've  got  to  waltz  that  palace  around  over  the 
country  wherever  you  want  it,  you  understand." 

"Well,"  says  I,  "I  think  they  are  a  pack  of  flat- 
heads  for  not  keeping  the  palace  themselves  'stead  of 
fooling  them  away  like  that.  And  what's  more — if  I 
was  one  of  them  I  would  see  a  man  in  Jericho  be 
fore  I  would  drop  my  business  and  come  to  him  for 
the  rubbing  of  an  old  tin  lamp." 

"  How  you  talk,  Huck  Finn.  Why,  you'd  have 
to  come  when  he  rubbed  it,  whether  you  wanted  to 
or  not." 


19 

"What!  and  I  as  high  as  a  tree  and  as  big  as  a 
church  ?  All  right,  then ;  I  would  come  ;  but  I  lay 
I'd  make  that  man  climb  the  highest  tree  there  was 
in  the  country." 

"  Shucks,  it  ain't  no  use  to  talk  to  you,  Huck  Finn. 
You  don't  seem  to  know  anything,  somehow — perfect 
saphead." 

I  thought  all  this  over  for  two  or  three  days,  and 
then  I  reckoned  I  would  see  if  there  was  anything  in 
it.  I  got  an  old  tin  lamp  and  an  iron  ring,  and  went 
out  in  the  woods  and  rubbed  and  rubbed  till  I  sweat 
like  an  Injun,  calculating  to  build  a  palace  and  sell  it ; 
but  it  warn't  no  use,  none  of  the  genies  come.  So 
then  I  judged  that  all  that  stuff  was  only  just  one  of 
Tom  Sawyer's  lies.  I  reckoned  he  believed  in  the 
A-rabs  and  the  elephants,  but  as  for  me  I  think  differ 
ent.  It  had  all  the  marks  of  a  Sunday-school. 


CHAPTER  IV 

WELL,  three  or  four  months  run  along,  and  it  was 
well  into  the  winter  now.  I  had  been  to  school  most 
all  the  time  and  could  spell  and  read  and  write  just  a 
little,  and  could  say  the  multiplication  table  up  to  six 
times  seven  is  thirty-five,  and  I  don't  reckon  I  could 
ever  get  any  further  than  that  if  I  was  to  live  forever. 
I  don't  take  no  stock  in  mathematics,  anyway. 

At  first  I  hated  the  school,  but  by-and-by  I  got  so 
I  could  stand  it.  Whenever  I  got  uncommon  tired  I 
played  hookey,  and  the  hiding  I  got  next  day  done 
me  good  and  cheered  me  up.  So  the  longer  I  went 
to  school  the  easier  it  got  to  be.  I  was  getting  sort 
of  used  to  the  widow's  ways,  too,  and  they  warn't  so 
raspy  on  me.  Living  in  a  house  and  sleeping  in  a 
bed  pulled  on  me  pretty  tight  mostly,  but  before  the 
cold  weather  I  used  to  slide  out  and  sleep  in  the 
woods  sometimes,  and  so  that  was  a  rest  to  me.  I 
liked  the  old  ways  best,  but  I  was  getting  so  I  liked 
the  new  ones,  too,  a  little  bit.  The  widow  said  I  was 
coming  along  slow  but  sure,  and  doing  very  satisfac 
tory.  She  said  she  warn't  ashamed  of  me. 

One  morning  I  happened  to  turn  over  the  salt 
cellar  at  breakfast.  I  reached  for  some  of  it  as  quick 
as  I  could  to  throw  over  my  left  shoulder  and  keep 
off  the  bad  luck,  but  Miss  Watson  was  in  ahead  of 
me,  and  crossed  me  off.  She  says,  "  Take  your  hands 


21 


away,  Huckleberry;  what  a  mess  you  are  always 
making !"  The  widow  put  in  a  good  word  for  me,  but 
that  warn't  going  to  keep  off  the  bad  luck,  I  knowed 
that  well  enough.  I  started  out,  after  breakfast,  feel 
ing  worried  and  shaky,  and  wondering  where  it  was 
going  to  fall  on  me,  and  what  it  was  going  to  be. 
There  is  ways  to  keep  off  some  kinds  of  bad  luck,  but 
this  wasn't  one  of  them  kind  ;  so  I  never  tried  to  do 
anything,  but  just  poked  along  low-spirited  and  on  the 
watch-out. 

I  went  down  the  front  garden  and  dumb  over  the 
stile  where  you  go  through  the  high  board  fence. 
There  was  an  inch  of  new  snow  on  the  ground,  and  I 
seen  somebody's  tracks.  They  had  come  up  from  the 
quarry  and  stood  around  the  stile  a  while,  and  then 
went  on  around  the  garden  fence.  It  was  funny  they 
hadn't  come  in,  after  standing  around  so.  I  couldn't 
make  it  out.  It  was  very  curious,  somehow.  I  was 
going  to  follow  around,  but  I  stooped  down  to  look  at 
the  tracks  first.  I  didn't  notice  anything  at  first,  but 
next  I  did.  There  was  a  cross  in  the  left  boot-heel 
made  with  big  nails,  to  keep  off  the  devil. 

I  was  up  in  a  second  and  shinning  down  the  hill. 
I  looked  over  my  shoulder  every  now  and  then,  but 
I  didn't  see  nobody.  I  was  at  Judge  Thatcher's  as 
quick  as  I  could  get  there.  He  said  : 

"  Why,  my  boy,  you  are  all  out  of  breath.  Did  you 
come  for  your  interest?" 

"  No,  sir,"  I  says ;  " is  there  some  for  me?" 

"Oh  yes,  a  half-yearly  is  in  last  night  —  over  a 
hundred  and  fifty  dollars.  Quite  a  fortune  for  you. 
You  had  better  let  me  invest  it  along  with  your  six 
thousand,  because  if  you  take  it  you'll  spend  it." 


22 


"  No,  sir,"  I  says,  "  I  don't  want  to  spend  it.  I 
don't  want  it  at  all — nor  the  six  thousand,  nuther.  I 
want  you  to  take  it ;  I  want  to  give  it  to  you — the 
six  thousand  and  all." 

He  looked  surprised.  He  couldn't  seem  to  make 
it  out.  He  says  : 

"  Why,  what  can  you  mean,  my  boy  ?" 

I  says,  "  Don't  you  ask  me  no  questions  about  it, 
please.  You'll  take  it — won't  you  ?" 

He  says: 

"Well,  I'm  puzzled.     Is  something  the  matter?" 

"  Please  take  it,"  says  I,  "  and  don't  ask  me  nothing 
— then  I  won't  have  to  tell  no  lies." 

He  studied  a  while,  and  then  he  says : 

"  Oho-o !  I  think  I  see.  You  want  to  sell  all  your 
property  to  me  —  not  give  it.  That's  the  correct 
idea." 

Then  he  wrote  something  on  a  paper  and  read  it 
over,  and  says : 

"  There ;  you  see  it  says  '  for  a  consideration.' 
That  means  I  have  bought  it  of  you  and  paid  you  for 
it.  Here's  a  dollar  for  you.  Now  you  sign  it." 

So  I  signed  it,  and  left. 

Miss  Watson's  nigger,  Jim,  had  a  hair- ball  as  big 
as  your  fist,  which  had  been  took  out  of  the  fourth 
stomach  of  an  ox,  and  he  used  to  do  magic  with  it. 
He  said  there  was  a  spirit  inside  of  it,  and  it  knowed 
everything.  So  I  went  to  him  that  night  and  told 
him  pap  was  here  again,  for  I  found  his  tracks  in  the 
snow.  What  I  wanted  to  know  was,  what  he  was 
going  to  do,  and  was  he  going  to  stay?  Jim  got  out 
his  hair-ball  and  said  something  over  it,  and  then  he 
held  At  up  and  dropped  it  on  the  floor.  It  fell  pretty 


solid,  and  only  rolled  about  an  inch.  Jim  tried  it 
again,  and  then  another  time,  and  it  acted  just  the 
same.  Jim  got  down  on  his  knees,  and  put  his  ear 
against  it  and  listened.  But  it  warn't  no  use ;  he  said 
it  wouldn't  talk.  He  said  sometimes  it  wouldn't  talk 
without  money.  I  told  him  I  had  an  old  slick  coun 
terfeit  quarter  that  warn't  no  good  because  the  brass 
showed  through  the  silver  a  little,  and  it  wouldn't  pass 
nohow,  even  if  the  brass  didn't  show,  because  it  was 
so  slick  it  felt  greasy,  and  so  that  would  tell  on  it 
every  time.  (I  reckoned  I  wouldn't  say  nothing 
about  the  dollar  I  got  from  the  judge.)  I  said  it  was 
pretty  bad  money,  but  maybe  the  hair -ball  would 
take  it,  because  maybe  it  wouldn't  know  the  differ 
ence.  Jim  smelt  it  and  bit  it  and  rubbed  it,  and  said 
he  would  manage  so  the  hair-ball  would  think  it  was 
good.  He  said  he  would  split  open  a  raw  Irish  potato 
and  stick  the  quarter  in  between  and  keep  it  there  all 
night,  and  next  morning  you  couldn't  see  no  brass, 
and  it  wouldn't  feel  greasy  no  more,  and  so  anybody 
in  town  would  take  it  in  a  minute,  let  alone  a  hair- 
ball.  Well,  I  knowed  a  potato  would  do  that  before, 
but  I  had  forgot  it. 

Jim  put  the  quarter  under  the  hair-ball,  and  got 
down  and  listened  again.  This  time  he  said  the  hair- 
ball  was  all  right.  He  said  it  would  tell  my  whole 
fortune  if  I  wanted  it  to.  I  says,  go  on.  So  the  hair- 
ball  talked  to  Jim,  and  Jim  told  it  to  me.  He  says: 

"  Yo'  ole  father  doan'  know  yit  what  he's  a-gwyne 
to  do.  Sometimes  he  spec  he'll  go  'way,  en  den  agin 
he  spec  he'll  stay.  De  bes'  way  is  to  res'  easy  en  let 
de  ole  man  take  his  own  way.  Dey's  two  angels 
hoverin'  roun'  'bout  him.  One  uv  'em  is  white  en 


24 

shiny,  en  t'other  one  is  black.  De  white  one  gits  him 
to  go  right  a  little  while,  den  de  black  one  sail  in  en 
bust  it  all  up.  A  body  can't  tell  yit  which  one 
gwyne  to  fetch  him  at  de  las'.  But  you  is  all  right. 
You  gwyne  to  have  considable  trouble  in  yo'  life, 
en  considable  joy.  Sometimes  you  gwyne  to  git  hurt, 
en  sometimes  you  gwyne  to  git  sick;  but  every  time 
you's  gwyne  to  git  well  agin.  Dey's  two  gals  flyin' 
'bout  you  in  yo'  life.  One  uv  'em's  light  en  t'other 
one  is  dark.  One  is  rich  en  t'other  is  po'.  You's 
gwyne  to  marry  de  po'  one  fust  en  de  rich  one  by- 
en-by.  You  wants  to  keep  'way  fum  de  water  as 
much  as  you  kin,  en  don't  run  no  resk,  'kase  it's  down 
in  de  bills  dat  you's  gwyne  to  git  hung." 

When  I  lit  my  candle  and  went  up  to  my  room 
that  night  there  set  pap — his  own  self ! 


CHAPTER  V 

I  HAD  shut  the  door  to.  Then  I  turned  around, 
and  there  he  was.  I  used  to  be  scared  of  him  all 
the  time,  he  tanned  me  so  much.  I  reckoned  I  was 
scared  now,  too ;  but  in  a  minute  I  see  I  was  mis 
taken —  that  is,  after  the  first  jolt,  as  you  may  say, 
when  my  breath  sort  of  hitched,  he  being  so  unex 
pected  ;  but  right  away  after  I  see  I  warn't  scared  of 
him  worth  bothering  about. 

He  was  most  fifty,  and  he  looked  it.  His  hair  was 
long  and  tangled  and  greasy,  and  hung  down,  and 
you  could  see  his  eyes  shining  through  like  he  was 
behind  vines.  It  was  all  black,  no  gray ;  so  was  his 
long,  mixed-up  whiskers.  There  warn't  no  color  in 
his  face,  where  his  face  showed ;  it  was  white ;  not 
like  another  man's  white,  but  a  white  to  make  a  body 
sick,  a  white  to  make  a  body's  flesh  crawl  —  a  tree- 
toad  white,  a  fish-belly  white.  As  for  his  clothes — 
just  rags,  that  was  all.  He  had  one  ankle  resting 
on  t'other  knee ;  the  boot  on  that  foot  was  busted, 
and  two  of  his  toes  stuck  through,  and  he  worked 
them  now  and  then.  His  hat  was  laying  on  the 
floor — an  old  black  slouch  with  the  top  caved  in,  like 
a  lid. 

I  stood  a-looking  at  him ;  he  set  there  a-looking  at 
me,  with  his  chair  tilted  back  a  little.  I  set  the  can 
dle  down.  I  noticed  the  window  was  up ;  so  he  had 


26 


dumb  in  by  the  shed.  He  kept  a -looking  me  all 
over.  By-and-by  he  says  : 

"  Starchy  clothes — very.  You  think  you're  a  good 
deal  of  a  big-bug,  dorit  you  ?" 

"  Maybe  I  am,  maybe  I  ain't,"  I  says. 

"  Don't  you  give  me  none  o'  your  lip,"  says  he. 
"You've  put  on  considerable  many  frills  since  I  been 
away.  I'll  take  you  down  a  peg  before  I  get  done 
with  you.  You're  educated,  too,  they  say — can  read 
and  write.  You  think  you're  better'n  your  father, 
now,  don't  you,  because  he  can't  ?  /'//  take  it  out  of 
you.  Who  told  you  you  might  meddle  with  such 
hifalut'n  foolishness,  hey  ? — who  told  you  you  could  ?" 

"  The  widow.     She  told  me." 

"  The  widow,  hey  ? — and  who  told  the  widow  she 
could  put  in  her  shovel  about  a  thing  that  ain't  none 
of  her  business  ?" 

"  Nobody  never  told  her." 

"  Well,  I'll  learn  her  how  to  meddle.  And  looky 
here — you  drop  that  school,  you  hear  ?  I'll  learn  peo 
ple  to  bring  up  a  boy  to  put  on  airs  over  his  own 
father  and  let  on  to  be  better'n  what  he  is.  You  lem- 
me  catch  you  fooling  around  that  school  again,  you 
hear?  Your  mother  couldn't  read,  and  she  couldn't 
write,  nuther,  before  she  died.  None  of  the  family 
couldn't  before  they  died.  /  can't ;  and  here  you're 
a-swelling  yourself  up  like  this.  I  ain't  the  man  to 
stand  it — you  hear?  Say,  lemme  hear  you  read." 

I  took  up  a  book  and  begun  something  about  Gen 
eral  Washington  and  the  wars.  When  I'd  read  about 
a  half  a  minute,  he  fetched  the  book  a  whack  with  his 
hand  and  knocked  it  across  the  house.  He  says : 

"  It's  so.     You  can  do  it.     I  had  my  doubts  when 


27 

you  told  me.  Now  looky  here ;  you  stop  that  put 
ting  on  frills.  I  won't  have  it.  I'll  lay  for  you,  my 
smarty ;  and  if  I  catch  you  about  that  school  I'll 
tan  you  good.  First  you  know  you'll  get  religion, 
too.  I  never  see  such  a  son." 

He  took  up  a  little  blue  and  yaller  picture  of  some 
cows  and  a  boy,  and  says : 

"What's  this?" 

"  It's  something  they  give  me  for  learning  my  les 
sons  good." 

He  tore  it  up,  and  says : 

"I'll  give  you  something  better — I'll  give  you  a 
cowhide." 

He  set  there  a-mumbling  and  a-growling  a  minute, 
and  then  he  says : 

"Ain't  you  a  sweet-scented  dandy,  though?  A 
bed ;  and  bedclothes ;  and  a  look'n'-glass ;  and  a  piece 
of  carpet  on  the  floor — and  your  own  father  got  to 
sleep  with  the  hogs  in  the  tanyard.  I  never  see  such 
a  son.  I  bet  I'll  take  some  o'  these  frills  out  o'  you 
before  I'm  done  with  you.  Why,  there  ain't  no  end 
to  your  airs — they  say  you're  rich.  Hey? — how's 
that?" 

"  They  lie— that's  how." 

"Looky  here — mind  how  you  talk  to  me;  I'm 
a-standing  about  all  I  can  stand  now — so  don't  gimme 
no  sass.  I've  been  in  town  two  days,  and  I  hain't 
heard  nothing  but  about  you  bein'  rich.  I  heard 
about  it  away  down  the  river,  too.  That's  why  I 
come.  You  git  me  that  money  to-morrow — I  want  it." 

"  I  hain't  got  no  money." 

"  It's  a  lie.  Judge  Thatcher's  got  it.  You  git  it. 
I  want  it." 


"  I  hain't  got  no  money,  I  tell  you.  You  ask  Judge 
Thatcher ;  he'll  tell  you  the  same." 

"  All  right.  I'll  ask  him ;  and  I'll  make  him  pun- 
gle,  too,  or  I'll  know  the  reason  why.  Say,  how 
much  you  got  in  your  pocket  ?  I  want  it." 

"  I  hain't  got  only  a  dollar,  and  I  want  that  to — " 

"  It  don't  make  no  difference  what  you  want  it  for 
— you  just  shell  it  out." 

He  took  it  and  bit  it  to  see  if  it  was  good,  and  then 
he  said  he  was  going  down-town  to  get  some  whiskey; 
said  he  hadn't  had  a  drink  all  day.  When  he  had 
got  out  on  the  shed  he  put  his  head  in  again,  and 
cussed  me  for  putting  on  frills  and  trying  to  be  better 
than  him ;  and  when  I  reckoned  he  was  gone  he 
come  back  and  put  his  head  in  again,  and  told  me  to 
mind  about  that  school,  because  he  was  going  to  lay 
for  me  and  lick  me  if  I  didn't  drop  that. 

Next  day  he  was  drunk,  and  he  went  to  Judge 
Thatcher's  and  bullyragged  him,  and  tried  to  make 
him  give  up  the  money;  but  he  couldn't,  and  then 
he  swore  he'd  make  the  law  force  him. 
.  The  judge  and  the  widow  went  to  law  to  get  the 
court  to  take  me  away  from  him  and  let  one  of  them 
be  my  guardian ;  but  it  was  a  new  judge  that  had  just 
come,  and  he  didn't  know  the  old  man ;  so  he  said 
courts  mustn't  interfere  and  separate  families  if  they 
could  help  it ;  said  he'd  druther  not  take  a  child  away 
from  its  father.  So  Judge  Thatcher  and  the  widow 
had  to  quit  on  the  business. 

That  pleased  the  old  man  till  he  couldn't  rest.  He 
said  he'd  cowhide  me  till  I  was  black  and  blue  if  I 
didn't  raise  some  money  for  him.  I  borrowed  three 
dollars  from  Judge  Thatcher,  and  pap  took  it  and  got 


29 

drunk,  and  went  a-blowing  around  and  cussing  and 
whooping  and  carrying  on ;  and  he  kept  it  up  all  over 
town,  with  a  tin  pan,  till  most  midnight ;  then  they 
jailed  him,  and  next  day  they  had  him  before  court, 
and  jailed  him  again  for  a  week.  But  he  said  he  was 
satisfied ;  said  he  was  boss  of  his  son,  and  he'd  make 
it  warm  for  him. 

When  he  got  out  the  new  judge  said  he  was  a-going 
to  make  a  man  of  him.  So  he  took  him  to  his  own 
house,  and  dressed  him  up  clean  and  nice,  and  had 
him  to  breakfast  and  dinner  and  supper  with  the 
family,  and  was  just  old  pie  to  him,  so  to  speak.  And 
after  supper  he  talked  to  him  about  temperance  and 
such  things  till  the  old  man  cried,  and  said  he'd  been 
a  fool,  and  fooled  away  his  life ;  but  now  he  was 
a-going  to  turn  over  a  new  leaf  and  be  a  man  nobody 
wouldn't  be  ashamed  of,  and  he  hoped  the  judge 
would  help  him  and  not  look  down  on  him.  The 
judge  said  he  could  hug  him  for  them  words;  so  he 
cried,  and  his  wife  she  cried  again ;  pap  said  he'd  been 
a  man  that  had  always  been  misunderstood  before, 
and  the  judge  said  he  believed  it.  The  old  man  said 
that  what  a  man  wanted  that  was  down  was  sym 
pathy,  and  the  judge  said  it  was  so;  so  they  cried 
again.  And  when  it  was  bedtime  the  old  man  rose 
up  and  held  out  his  hand,  and  says : 

"  Look  at  it,  gentlemen  and  ladies  all ;  take  a-hold 
of  it ;  shake  it.  There's  a  hand  that  was  the  hand  of 
a  hog;  but  it  ain't  so  no  more ;  it's  the  hand  of  a  man 
that's  started  in  on  a  new  life,  and  '11  die  before  he'll 
go  back.  You  mark  them  words — don't  forget  I  said 
them.  It's  a  clean  hand  now ;  shake  it  —  don't  be 
afeard." 


3Q 

So  they  shook  it,  one  after  the  other,  all  around, 
and  cried.  The  judge's  wife  she  kissed  it.  Then  the 
old  man  he  signed  a  pledge — made  his  mark.  The 
judge  said  it  was  the  holiest  time  on  record,  or  some 
thing  like  that.  Then  they  tucked  the  old  man  into 
a  beautiful  room,  which  was  the  spare  room,  and  in 
the  night  sometime  he  got  powerful  thirsty  and  dumb 
out  on  to  the  porch -roof  and  slid  down  a  stanchion 
and  traded  his  new  coat  for  a  jug  of  forty -rod,  and 
clumb  back  again  and  had  a  good  old  time ;  and 
towards  daylight  he  crawled  out  again,  drunk  as  a 
fiddler,  and  rolled  off  the  porch  and  broke  his  left  arm 
in  two  places,  and  was  most  froze  to  death  when  some 
body  found  him  after  sun-up.  And  when  they  come 
to  look  at  that  spare  room  they  had  to  take  sound 
ings  before  they  could  navigate  it. 

The  judge  he  felt  kind  of  sore.  He  said  he  reckoned 
a  body  could  reform  the  old  man  with  a  shot-gun, 
maybe,  but  he  didn't  know  no  other  way. 


CHAPTER  VI 

WELL,  pretty  soon  the  old  man  was  up  and  around 
again,  and  then  he  went  for  Judge  Thatcher  in  the 
courts  to  make  him  give  up  that  money,  and  he  went 
for  me,  too,  for  not  stopping  school.  He  catched  me 
a  couple  of  times  and  thrashed  me,  but  I  went  to 
school  just  the  same,  and  dodged  him  or  outrun  him 
most  of  the  time.  I  didn't  want  to  go  to  school  much 
before,  but  I  reckoned  I'd  go  now  to  spite  pap.  That 
law  trial  was  a  slow  business  —  appeared  like  they 
warn't  ever  going  to  get  started  on  it ;  so  every  now 
and  then  I'd  borrow  two  or  three  dollars  off  of  the 
judge  for  him,  to  keep  from  getting  a  cowhiding. 
Every  time  he  got  money  he  got  drunk ;  and  every 
time  he  got  drunk  he  raised  Cain  around  town ;  and 
every  time  he  raised  Cain  he  got  jailed.  He  was 
just  suited  —  this  kind  of  thing  was  right  in  his 
line. 

He  got  to  hanging  around  the  widow's  too  much, 
and  so  she  told  him  at  last  that  if  he  didn't  quit  using 
around  there  she  would  make  trouble  for  him.  Well, 
wasrit  he  mad  ?  He  said  he  would  show  who  was 
Huck  Finn's  boss.  So  he  watched  out  for  me  one 
day  in  the  spring,  and  catched  me,  and  took  me  up 
the  river  about  three  mile  in  a  skiff,  and  crossed  over 
to  the  Illinois  shore  where  it  was  woody  and  there 
warn't  no  houses  but  an  old  log -hut  in  a  place  where 


32 

the  timber  was  so  thick  you  couldn't  find  it  if  you 
didn't  know  where  it  was. 

He  kept  me  with  him  all  the  time,  and  I  never  got 
a  chance  to  run  off.  We  lived  in  that  old  cabin,  and 
he  always  locked  the  door  and  put  the  key  under  his 
head  nights.  He  had  a  gun  which  he  had  stole,  I 
reckon,  and  we  fished  and  hunted,  and  that  was  what 
we  lived  on.  Every  little  while  he  locked  me  in  and 
went  down  to  the  store,  three  miles,  to  the  ferry,  and 
traded  fish  and  game  for  whiskey,  and  fetched  it  home 
and  got  drunk  and  had  a  good  time,  and  licked  me. 
The  widow  she  found  out  where  I  was  by-and-by,  and 
she  sent  a  man  over  to  try  to  get  hold  of  me ;  but  pap 
drove  him  off  with  the  gun,  and  it  warn't  long  after 
that  till  I  was  used  to  being  where  I  was,  and  liked  it — 
all  but  the  cowhide  part. 

It  was  kind  of  lazy  and  jolly,  laying  off  comfortable 
all  day,  smoking  and  fishing,  and  no  books  nor  study. 
Two  months  or  more  run  along,  and  my  clothes  got 
to  be  all  rags  and  dirt,  and  I  didn't  see  how  I'd  ever 
got  to  like  it  so  well  at  the  widow's,  where  you  had  to 
wash,  and  eat  on  a  plate,  and  comb  up,  and  go  to  bed 
and  get  up  regular,  and  be  forever  bothering  over  a 
book,  and  have  old  Miss  Watson  pecking  at  you  all 
the  time.  I  didn't  want  to  go  back  no  more.  I  had 
stopped  cussing,  because  the  widow  didn't  like  it ;  but 
now  I  took  to  it  again  because  pap  hadn't  no  objec 
tions.  It  was  pretty  good  times  up  in  the  woods 
there,  take  it  all  around. 

But  by-and-by  pap  got  too  handy  with  his  hick'ry, 
and  I  couldn't  stand  it.  I  was  all  over  welts.  He  got 
to  going  away  so  much,  too,  and  locking  me  in.  Once 
he  locked  me  in  and  was  gone  three  days.  It  was 


33 

dreadful  lonesome.  I  judged  he  had  got  drowned, 
and  I  wasn't  ever  going  to  get  out  any  more.  I  was 
scared.  I  made  up  my  mind  I  would  fix  up  some  way 
to  leave  there.  I  had  tried  to  get  out  of  that  cabin 
many  a  time,  but  I  couldn't  find  no  way.  There 
warn't  a  window  to  it  big  enough  for  a  dog  to  get 
through.  I  couldn't  get  up  the  chimbly;  it  was  too 
narrow.  The  door  was  thick,  solid  oak  slabs.  Pap 
was  pretty  careful  not  to  leave  a  knife  or  anything  in 
the  cabin  when  he  was  away ;  I  reckon  I  had  hunted 
the  place  over  as  much  as  a  hundred  times ;  well,  I 
was  'most  all  the  time  at  it,  because  it  was  about  the 
only  way  to  put  in  the  time.  But  this  time  I  found 
something  at  last;  I  found  an  old  rusty  wood -saw 
without  any  handle ;  it  was  laid  in  between  a  rafter 
and  the  clapboards  of  the  roof.  I  greased  it  up  and 
went  to  work.  There  was  an  old  horse-blanket  nailed 
against  the  logs  at  the  far  end  of  the  cabin  behind 
the  table,  to  keep  the  wind  from  blowing  through  the 
chinks  and  putting  the  candle  out.  I  got  under  the 
table  and  raised  the  blanket,  and  went  to  work  to  saw 
a  section  of  the  big  bottom  log  out — big  enough  to  let 
me  through.  Well,  it  was  a  good  long  job,  but  I  was 
getting  towards  the  end  of  it  when  I  heard  pap's  gun 
in  the  woods.  I  got  rid  of  the  signs  of  my  work,  and 
dropped  the  blanket  and  hid  my  saw,  and  pretty  soon 
pap  come  in. 

Pap  warn't  in  a  good-humor — so  he  was  his  natural 
self.  He  said  he  was  down  to  town,  and  everything 
was  going  wrong.  His  lawyer  said  he  reckoned  he 
would  win  his  lawsuit  and  get  the  money  if  they  ever 
got  started  on  the  trial;  but  then  there  was  ways  to 
put  it  off  a  long  time,  and  Judge  Thatcher  knowed 

3HF 


34 

how  to  do  it.  And  he  said  people  allowed  there'd  be 
another  trial  to  get  me  away  from  him  and  give  me  to 
the  widow  ^or  my  guardian,  and  they  guessed  it  would 
win  this  time.  This  shook  me  up  considerable,  be 
cause  I  didn't  want  to  go  back  to  the  widow's  any 
more  and  be  so  cramped  up  and  sivilized,  as  they 
called  it.  Then  the  old  man  got  to  cussing,  and 
cussed  everything  and  everybody  he  could  think  of, 
and  then  cussed  them  all  over  again  to  make  sure  he 
hadn't  skipped  any,  and  after  that  he  polished  off  with 
a  kind  of  a  general  cuss  all  round,  including  a  con 
siderable  parcel  of  people  which  he  didn't  know  the 
names  of,  and  so  called  them  what's-his-name  when 
he  got  to  them,  and  went  right  along  with  his  cussing. 

He  said  he  would  like  to  see  the  widow  get  me. 
He  said  he  would  watch  out,  and  if  they  tried  to  come 
any  such  game  on  him  he  knowed  of  a  place  six  or 
seven  mile  off  to  stow  me  in,  where  they  might  hunt 
till  they  dropped  and  they  couldn't  find  me.  That 
made  me  pretty  uneasy  again,  but  only  for  a  minute ; 
I  reckoned  I  wouldn't  stay  on  hand  till  he  got  that 
chance. 

The  old  man  made  me  go  to  the  skiff  and  fetch  the 
things  he  had  got.  There  was  a  fifty-pound  sack  of 
corn  meal,  and  a  side  of  bacon,  ammunition,  and  a 
four-gallon  jug  of  whiskey,  and  an  old  book  and  two 
newspapers  for  wadding,  besides  some  tow.  I  toted 
up  a  load,  and  went  back  and  set  down  on  the  bow  of 
the  skiff  to  rest.  I  thought  it  all  over,  and  I  reckoned 
I  would  walk  off  with  the  gun  and  some  lines,  and 
take  to  the  woods  when  I  run  away.  I  guessed  I 
wouldn't  stay  in  one  place,  but  just  tramp  right  across 
the  country,  mostly  night  times,  and  hunt  and  fish  to 


keep  alive,  and  so  get  so  far  away  that  the  old  man  nor 
the  widow  couldn't  ever  find  me  any  more.  I  judged 
I  would  saw  out  and  leave  that  night  if  pap  got  drunk 
enough,  and  I  reckoned  he  would.  I  got  so  full  of  it 
I  didn't  notice  how  long  I  was  staying  till  the  old 
man  hollered  and  asked  me  whether  I  was  asleep  or 
drownded. 

I  got  the  things  all  up  to  the  cabin,  and  then  it  was 
about  dark.  While  I  was  cooking  supper  the  old  man 
took  a  swig  or  two  and  got  sort  of  warmed  up,  and 
went  to  ripping  again.  He  had  been  drunk  over  in 
town,  and  laid  in  the  gutter  all  night,  and  he  was  a 
sight  to  look  at.  A  body  would  a  thought  he  was 
Adam — he  was  just  all  mud.  Whenever  his  liquor 
begun  to  work  he  most  always  went  for  the  govment. 
This  time  he  says: 

"  Call  this  a  govment !  why,  just  look  at  it  and  see 
what  it's  like.  Here's  the  law  a-standing  ready  to 
take  a  man's  son  away  from  him — a  man's  own  son, 
which  he  has  had  all  the  trouble  and  all  the  anxiety 
and  all  the  expense  of  raising.  Yes,  just  as  that  man 
has  got  that  son  raised  at  last,  and  ready  to  go  to  work 
and  begin  to  do  suthin'  for  him  and  give  him  a  rest, 
the  law  up  and  goes  for  him.  And  they  call  that  gov 
ment  !  That  ain't  all,  nuther.  The  law  backs  that 
old  Judge  Thatcher  up  and  helps  him  to  keep  me  out 
o'  my  property.  Here's  what  the  law  does:  The  law 
takes  a  man  worth  six  thousand  dollars  and  up'ards, 
and  jams  him  into  an  old  trap  of  a  cabin  like  this,  and 
lets  him  go  round  in  clothes  that  ain't  fitten  for  a  hog. 
They  call  that  govment !  A  man  can't  get  his  rights 
in  a  govment  like  this.  Sometimes  I've  a  mighty  no 
tion  to  just  leave  the  country  for  good  and  all.  Yes, 


36 

and  I  tola  em  so ,  I  told  old  Thatcher  so  to  his  face. 
Lots  of  'em  heard  me,  and  can  tell  what  I  said. 
Says  I,  for  two  cents  I'd  leave  the  blamed  country 
and  never  come  a-near  it  agin.  Them's  the  very  words. 
I  says,  look  at  my  hat — if  you  call  it  a  hat — but  the 
lid  raises  up  and  the  rest  of  it  goes  down  till  it's  be 
low  my  chin,  and  then  it  ain't  rightly  a  hat  at  all,  but 
more  like  my  head  was  shoved  up  through  a  jint  o' 
stove-pipe.  Look  at  it,  says  I — such  a  hat  for  me  to 
wear — one  of  the  wealthiest  men  in  this  town  if  I 
could  git  my  rights. 

"  Oh  yes ;  this  is  a  wonderful  govment,  wonderful. 
Why,  looky  here.  There  was  a  free  nigger  there  from 
Ohio — a  mulatter,  most  as  white  as  a  white  man.  He 
had  the  whitest  shirt  on  you  ever  see,  too,  and  the 
shiniest  hat ;  and  there  ain't  a  man  in  that  town  that's 
got  as  fine  clothes  as  what  he  had ;  and  he  had  a  gold 
watch  and  chain,  and  a  silver-headed  cane — the  awful- 
est  old  gray-headed  nabob  in  the  State.  And  what  do 
you  think ?  They  said  he  was  a  p'fessor  in  a  college, 
and  could  talk  all  kinds  of  languages,  and  knowed 
everything.  And  that  ain't  the  wust.  They  said  he 
could  vote  when  he  was  at  home.  Well,  that  let  me 
out.  Thinks  I,  what  is  the  country  a-coming  to  ?  It 
was  'lection  day,  and  I  was  just  about  to  go  and  vote 
myself  if  I  warn't  too  drunk  to  get  there ;  but  when 
they  told  me  there  was  a  State  in  this  country  where 
they'd  let  that  nigger  vote,  I  drawed  out.  I  says  I'll 
never  vote  agin.  Them's  the  very  words  I  said ;  they 
all  heard  me;  and  the  country  may  rot  for  all  me — 
I'll  never  vote  agin  as  long  as  I  live.  And  to  see  the 
cool  way  of  that  nigger — why,  he  wouldn't  a  give  me 
the  road  if  I  hadn't  shoved  him  out  o*  the  way.  I 


37 

says  to  the  people,  why  ain't  this  nigger  put  up  at 
auction  and  sold  ? — that's  what  I  want  to  know.  And 
what  do  you  reckon  they  said  ?  Why,  they  said  he 
couldn't  be  sold  till  he'd  been  in  the  State  six  months, 
and  he  hadn't  been  there  that  long  yet.  There,  now 
— that's  a  specimen.  They  call  that  a  govment  that 
can't  sell  a  free  nigger  till  he's  been  in  the  State  six 
months.  Here's  a  govment  that  calls  itself  a  gov 
ment,  and  lets  on  to  be  a  govment,  and  thinks  it  is  a 
govment,  and  yet's  got  to  set  stock-still  for  six  whole 
months  before  it  can  take  a  hold  of  a  prowling,  thiev 
ing,  infernal,  white-shirted  free  nigger,  and — " 

Pap  was  a-going  on  so  he  never  noticed  where  his 
old  limber  legs  was  taking  him  to,  so  he  went  head  over 
heels  over  the  tub  of  salt  pork  and  barked  both  shins, 
and  the  rest  of  his  speech  was  all  the  hottest  kind  of 
language — mostly  hove  at  the  nigger  and  the  gov 
ment,  though  he  give  the  tub  some,  too,  all  along, 
here  and  there.  He  hopped  around  the  cabin  consid 
erable,  first  on  one  leg  and  then  on  the  other,  holding 
first  one  shin  and  then  the  other  one,  and  at  last  he 
let  out  with  his  left  foot  all  of  a  sudden  and  fetched 
the  tub  a  rattling  kick.  But  it  warn't  good  judgment, 
because  that  was  the  boot  that  had  a  couple  of  his 
toes  leaking  out  of  the  front  end  of  it;  so  now  he 
raised  a  howl  that  fairly  made  a  body's  hair  raise, 
and  down  he  went  in  the  dirt,  and  rolled  there,  and 
held  his  toes  ;  and  the  cussing  he  done  then  laid  over 
anything  he  had  ever  done  previous.  He  said  so  his 
own  self  afterwards.  He  had  heard  old  Sowberry 
Hagan  in  his  best  days,  and  he  said  it  laid  over  him, 
too  ;  but  I  reckon  that  was  sort  of  piling  it  on,  maybe. 

After  supper  pap  took  the  jug,  and  said  he  had 


enough  whiskey  there  for  two  drunks  and  one  delirium 
tremens.  That  was  always  his  word.  I  judged  he 
would  be  blind  drunk  in  about  an  hour,  and  then  I 
would  steal  the  key,  or  saw  myself  out,  one  or  t'other. 
He  drank  and  drank,  and  tumbled  down  on  his 
blankets  by-and-by;  but  luck  didn't  run  my  way. 
He  didn't  go  sound  asleep,  but  was  uneasy.  He 
groaned  and  moaned  and  thrashed  around  this  way 
and  that  for  a  long  time.  At  last  I  got  so  sleepy  I 
couldn't  keep  my  eyes  open  all  I  could  do,  and  so 
before  I  knowed  what  I  was  about  I  was  sound  asleep, 
and  the  candle  burning. 

I  don't  know  how  long  I  was  asleep,  but  all  of  a 
sudden  there  was  an  awful  scream  and  I  was  up. 
There  was  pap  looking  wild,  and  skipping  around 
every  which  way  and  yelling  about  snakes.  He  said 
they  was  crawling  up  his  legs:  and  then  he  would 
give  a  jump  and  scream,  and  say  one  had  bit  him  on 
the  cheek — but  I  couldn't  see  no  snakes.  He  started 
and  run  round  and  round  the  cabin,  hollering  "  Take 
him  off!  take  him  off!  he's  biting  me  on  the  neck!" 
I  never  see  a  man  look  so  wild  in  the  eyes.  Pretty 
soon  he  was  all  fagged  out,  and  fell  down  panting ; 
then  he  rolled  over  and  over  wonderful  fast,  kicking 
things  every  which  way,  and  striking  and  grabbing  at 
the  air  with  his  hands,  and  screaming  and  saying 
there  was  devils  a-hold  of  him.  He  wore  out  by-and- 
by,  and  laid  still  a  while,  moaning.  Then  he  laid 
stiller,  and  didn't  make  a  sound.  I  could  hear  the 
owls  and  the  wolves  away  off  in  the  woods,  and  it 
seemed  terrible  still.  He  was  laying  over  by  the  cor 
ner.  By-and-by  he  raised  up  part  way  and  listened, 
with  his  head  to  one  side.  He  says,  very  low  i 


39 

"  Tramp — tramp — tramp  ;  that's  the  dead  ;  tramp 
— tramp — tramp-,  they're  coming  after  me;  but  I  won't 
go —  Oh,  they're  here!  don't  touch  me — don't!  hands 
off — they're  cold ;  let  go —  Oh,  let  a  poor  devil  alone !" 

Then  he  went  down  on  all  fours  and  crawled  off, 
begging  them  to  let  him  alone,  and  he  rolled  himself 
up  in  his  blanket  and  wallowed  in  under  the  old  pine 
table,  still  a-begging  ;  and  then  he  went  to  crying.  I 
could  hear  him  through  the  blanket. 

By-and-by  he  rolled  out  and  jumped  up  on  his  feet 
looking  wild,  and  he  see  me  and  went  for  me.  He 
chased  me  round  and  round  the  place  with  a  clasp- 
knife,  calling  me  the  Angel  of  Death,  and  saying  he 
would  kill  me,  and  then  I  couldn't  come  for  him  no 
more.  I  begged,  and  told  him  I  was  only  Huck ;  but 
he  laughed  such  a  screechy  laugh,  and  roared  and 
cussed,  and  kept  on  chasing  me  up.  Once  when  I 
turned  short  and  dodged  under  his  arm  he  made  a 
grab  and  got  me  by  the  jacket  between  my  shoulders, 
and  I  thought  I  was  gone  ;  but  I  slid  out  of  the  jacket 
quick  as  lightning,  and  saved  myself.  Pretty  soon  he 
was  all  tired  out,  and  dropped  down  with  his  back 
against  the  door,  and  said  he  would  rest  a  minute  and 
then  kill  me.  He  put  his  knife  under  him,  and  said 
he  would  sleep  and  get  strong,  and  then  he  would  see 
who  was  who. 

So  he  dozed  off  pretty  soon.  By-and-by  I  got  the 
old  split-bottom  chair  and  clumb  up  as  easy  as  I 
could,  not  to  make  any  noise,  and  got  down  the  gun. 
I  slipped  the  ramrod  down  it  to  make  sure  it  was  load 
ed,  and  then  I  laid  it  across  the  turnip  barrel,  pointing 
towards  pap,  and  set  down  behind  it  to  wait  for  him  to 
stir.  And  how  slow  and  still  the  time  did  drag  along. 


CHAPTER  VII 

"  GlT  up !    What  you  'bout  ?" 

I  opened  my  eyes  and  looked  around,  trying  to 
make  out  where  I  was.  It  was  after  sun-up,  and  I  had 
been  sound  asleep.  Pap  was  standing  over  me  look 
ing  sour — and  sick,  too.  He  says : 

"  What  you  doin'  with  this  gun?" 

I  judged  he  didn't  know  nothing  about  what  he 
had  been  doing,  so  I  says-. 

"  Somebody  tried  to  get  in,  so  I  was  laying  for  him." 

"Why  didn't  you  roust  me  out?" 

"  Well,  I  tried  to,  but  I  couldn't ;  I  couldn't  budge 
you." 

"  Well,  all  right.  Don't  stand  there  palavering  all 
day,  but  out  with  you  and  see  if  there's  a  fish  on  the 
lines  for  breakfast.  I'll  be  along  in  a  minute." 

He  unlocked  the  door,  and  I  cleared  out  up  the 
river-bank.  I  noticed  some  pieces  of  limbs  and  such 
things  floating  down,  and  a  sprinkling  of  bark ;  so  I 
knowed  the  river  had  begun  to  rise.  I  reckoned  I 
would  have  great  times  now  if  I  was  over  at  the 
town.  The  June  rise  used  to  be  always  luck  for  me ; 
because  as  soon  as  that  rise  begins  here  comes  cord- 
wood  floating  down,  and  pieces  of  log  rafts — some 
times  a  dozen  logs  together ;  so  all  you  have  to  do  is 
to  catch  them  and  sell  them  to  the  wood-yards  and 
the  saw-mill. 


I  went  along  up  the  bank  with  one  eye  out  for  pap 
and  t'other  one  out  for  what  the  rise  might  fetch 
along.  Well,  all  at  once  here  comes  a  canoe;  just  a 
beauty,  too,  about  thirteen  or  fourteen  foot  long,  rid 
ing  high  like  a  duck.  I  shot  head-first  off  of  the  bank 
like  a  frog,  clothes  and  all  on,  and  struck  out  for  the 
canoe.  I  just  expected  there'd  be  somebody  laying 
down  in  it,  because  people  often  done  that  to  fool 
folks,  and  when  a  chap  had  pulled  a  skiff  out  most  to 
it  they'd  raise  up  and  laugh  at  him.  But  it  warn't  so 
this  time.  It  was  a  drift-canoe  sure  enough,  and  I 
dumb  in  and  paddled  her  ashore.  Thinks  I,  the  old 
man  will  be  glad  when  he  sees  this — she's  worth  ten 
dollars.  But  when  I  got  to  shore  pap  wasn't  in  sight 
yet,  and  as  I  was  running  her  into  a  little  creek  like  a 
gully,  all  hung  over  with  vines  and  willows,  I  struck 
another  idea :  I  judged  I'd  hide  her  good,  and  then, 
'stead  of  taking  to  the  woods  when  I  run  off,  I'd  go  down 
the  river  about  fifty  mile  and  camp  in  one  place  for 
good,  and  not  have  such  a  rough  time  tramping  on  foot. 

It  was  pretty  close  to  the  shanty,  and  I  thought  I 
heard  the  old  man  coming  all  the  time ;  but  I  got  her 
hid ;  and  then  I  out  and  looked  around  a  bunch  of 
willows,  and  there  was  the  old  man  down  the  path 
apiece  just  drawing  a  bead  on  a  bird  with  his  gun.  So 
he  hadn't  seen  anything. 

When  he  got  along  I  was  hard  at  it  taking  up  a 
"  trot  "  line.  He  abused  me  a  little  for  being  so  slow  ; 
but  I  told  him  I  fell  in  the  river,  and  that  was  what 
made  me  so  long.  I  knowed  he  would  see  I  was  wet, 
and  then  he  would  be  asking  questions.  We  got  five 
catfish  off  the  lines  and  went  home. 

While  we  laid  off  after  breakfast  to  sleep  up,  both 


42 

of  us  being  about  wore  out,  I  got  to  thinking  that  if 
I  could  fix  up  some  way  to  keep  pap  and  the  widow 
from  trying  to  follow  me,  it  would  be  a  certainer 
thing  than  trusting  to  luck  to  get  far  enough  off  be 
fore  they  missed  me ;  you  see,  all  kinds  of  things  might 
happen.  Well,  I  didn't  see  no  way  for  a  while,  but 
by-and-by  pap  raised  up  a  minute  to  drink  another 
barrel  of  water,  and  he  says  : 

"  Another  time  a  man  comes  a-prowling  round  here 
you  roust  me  out,  you  hear?  That  man  warn't  here 
for  no  good.  I'd  a  shot  him.  Next  time  you  roust 
me  out,  you  hear?" 

Then  he  dropped  down  and  went  to  sleep  again ; 
but  what  he  had  been  saying  give  me  the  very  idea  I 
wanted.  I  says  to  myself,  I  can  fix  it  now  so  nobody 
won't  think  of  following  me. 

About  twelve  o'clock  we  turned  out  and  went  along 
up  the  bank.  The  river  was  coming  up  pretty  fast, 
and  lots  of  drift-wood  going  by  on  the  rise.  By-and- 
by  along  comes  part  of  a  log  raft — nine  logs  fast  to 
gether.  We  went  out  with  the  skiff  and  towed  it 
ashore.  Then  we  had  dinner.  Anybody  but  pap 
would  a  waited  and  seen  the  day  through,  so  as  to 
catch  more  stuff;  but  that  warn't  pap's  style.  Nine 
logs  was  enough  for  one  time ;  he  must  shove  right 
over  to  town  and  sell.  So  he  locked  me  in  and  took 
the  skiff,  and  started  off  towing  the  raft  about  half- 
past  three.  I  judged  he  wouldn't  come  back  that 
night.  I  waited  till  I  reckoned  he  had  got  a  good 
start ;  then  I  out  with  my  saw,  and  went  to  work  on 
that  log  again.  Before  he  was  t'other  side  of  the 
river  I  was  out  of  the  hole ;  him  and  his  raft  was  just 
a  speck  on  the  water  away  off  yonder. 


HUCKLEBERRY    FINN 


43 

I  took  the  sack  of  corn  meal  and  took  it  to  where 
the  canoe  was  hid,  and  shoved  the  vines  and  branches 
apart  and  put  it  in ;  then  I  done  the  same  with  the 
side  of  bacon  ;  then  the  whiskey-jug.  I  took  all  the 
coffee  and  sugar  there  was,  and  all  the  ammunition; 
I  took  the  wadding ;  I  took  the  bucket  and  gourd ; 
I  took  a  dipper  and  a  tin  cup,  and  my  old  saw  and 
two  blankets,  and  the  skillet  and  the  coffee-pot.  I 
took  fish-lines  and  matches  and  other  things — every 
thing  that  was  worth  a  cent.  I  cleaned  out  the  place. 
I  wanted  an  axe,  but  there  wasn't  any,  only  the  one 
out  at  the  wood-pile,  and  I  knowed  why  I  was  going  to 
leave  that.  I  fetched  out  the  gun,  and  now  I  was  done. 

I  had  wore  the  ground  a  good  deal  crawling  out  of 
the  hole  and  dragging  out  so  many  things.  So  I  fixed 
that  as  good  as  I  could  from  the  outside  by  scattering 
dust  on  the  place,  which  covered  up  the  smoothness 
and  the  sawdust.  Then  I  fixed  the  piece  of  log  back 
into  its  place,  and  put  two  rocks  under  it  and  one 
against  it  to  hold  it  there,  for  it  was  bent  up  at  that 
place  and  didn't  quite  touch  ground.  If  you  stood 
four  or  five  foot  away  and  didn't  know  it  was  sawed, 
you  wouldn't  never  notice  it ;  and  besides,  this  was  the 
back  of  the  cabin,  and  it  warn't  likely  anybody  would 
go  fooling  around  there. 

It  was  all  grass  clear  to  the  canoe,  so  I  hadn't  left 
a  track.  I  followed  around  to  see.  I  stood  on  the 
bank  and  looked  out  over  the  river.  All  safe.  So  I 
took  the  gun  and  went  up  a  piece  into  the  woods,  and 
was  hunting  around  for  some  birds  when  I  see  a  wild 
pig ;  hogs  soon  went  wild  in  them  bottoms  after  they 
had  got  away  from  the  prairie  farms.  I  shot  this  fel 
low  and  took  him  into  camp. 


44 

I  took  the  axe  and  smashed  in  the  door.  I  beat  it 
and  hacked  it  considerable  a-doing  it.  I  fetched  the 
pig  in,  and  took  him  back  nearly  to  the  table  and 
hacked  into  his  throat  with  the  axe,  and  laid  him  down 
on  the  ground  to  bleed ;  I  say  ground  because  it  was 
ground — hard  packed,  and  no  boards.  Well,  next  I 
took  an  old  sack  and  put  a  lot  of  big  rocks  in  it — all 
I  could  drag  —  and  I  started  it  from  the  pig,  and 
dragged  it  to  the  door  and  through  the  woods  down 
to  the  river  and  dumped  it  in,  and  down  it  sunk,  out 
of  sight.  You  could  easy  see  that  something  had  been 
dragged  over  the  ground.  I  did  wish  Tom  Sawyer 
was  there  ;  I  knowed  he  would  take  an  interest  in  this 
kind  of  business,  and  throw  in  the  fancy  touches.  No 
body  could  spread  himself  like  Tom  Sawyer  in  such  a 
thing  as  that. 

Well,  last  I  pulled  out  some  of  my  hair,  and  blood 
ed  the  axe  good,  and  stuck  it  on  the  back  side,  and 
slung  the  axe  in  the  corner.  Then  I  took  up  the  pig 
and  held  him  to  my  breast  with  my  jacket  (so  he 
couldn't  drip)  till  I  got  a  good  piece  below  the  house 
and  then  dumped  him  into  the  river.  Now  I  thought 
of  something  else.  So  I  went  and  got  the  bag  of 
meal  and  my  old  saw  out  of  the  canoe,  and  fetched 
them  to  the  house.  I  took  the  bag  to  where  it 
used  to  stand,  and  ripped  a  hole  in  the  bottom  of  it 
with  the  saw,  for  there  warn't  no  knives  and  forks  on 
the  place — pap  done  everything  with  his  clasp-knife, 
about  the  cooking.  Then  I  carried  the  sack  about  a 
hundred  yards  across  the  grass  and  through  the  wil 
lows  east  of  the  house,  to  a  shallow  lake  that  was 
five  mile  wide  and  full  of  rushes — and  ducks  too,  you 
might  say,  in  the  season.  There  was  a  slough  or  a 


45 

creek  leading  out  of  it  on  the  other  side  that  went 
miles  away,  I  don't  know  where,  but  it  didn't  go  to 
the  river.  The  meal  sifted  out  and  made  a  little 
track  all  the  way  to  the  lake.  I  dropped  pap's  whet 
stone  there  too,  so  as  to  look  like  it  had  been  done 
by  accident.  Then  I  tied  up  the  rip  in  the  meal-sack 
with  a  string,  so  it  wouldn't  leak  no  more,  and  took  it 
and  my  saw  to  the  canoe  again. 

It  was  about  dark  now;  so  I  dropped  the  canoe 
down  the  river  under  some  willows  that  hung  over 
the  bank,  and  waited  for  the  moon  to  rise.  I  made 
fast  to  a  willow ;  then  I  took  a  bite  to  eat,  and  by- 
and-by  laid  down  in  the  canoe  to  smoke  a  pipe  and 
lay  out  a  plan.  I  says  to  myself,  they'll  follow  the 
track  of  that  sackful  of  rocks  to  the  shore  and  then 
drag  the  river  for  me.  And  they'll  follow  that  meal 
track  to  the  lake  and  go  browsing  down  the  creek 
that  leads  out  of  it  to  find  the  robbers  that  killed  me 
and  took  the  things.  They  won't  ever  hunt  the  river 
for  anything  but  my  dead  carcass.  They'll  soon  get 
tired  of  that,  and  won't  bother  no  more  about  me. 
All  right ;  I  can  stop  anywhere  I  want  to.  Jackson's 
Island  is  good  enough  for  me ;  I  know  that  island 
pretty  well,  and  nobody  ever  comes  there.  And 
then  I  can  paddle  over  to  town  nights,  and  slink 
around  and  pick  up  things  I  want.  Jackson's  Island's 
the  place. 

I  was  pretty  tired,  and  the  first  thing  I  knowed  I 
was  asleep.  When  I  woke  up  I  didn't  know  where  I 
was  for  a  minute.  I  set  up  and  looked  around,  a 
little  scared.  Then  I  remembered.  The  river  looked 
miles  and  miles  across.  The  moon  was  so  bright  I 
could  a  counted  the  drift-logs  that  went  a-slipping 


46 

along,  black  and  still,  hundreds  of  yards  out  from 
shore.  Everything  was  dead  quiet,  and  it  looked 
late,  and  smelt  late.  You  know  what  I  mean  —  I 
don't  know  the  words  to  put  it  in. 

I  took  a  good  gap  and  a  stretch,  and  was  just  go 
ing  to  unhitch  and  start  when  I  heard  a  sound  away 
over  the  water.  I  listened.  Pretty  soon  I  made  it 
out.  It  was  that  dull  kind  of  a  regular  sound  that 
comes  from  oars  working  in  rowlocks  when  it's  a  still 
night.  I  peeped  out  through  the  willow  branches, 
and  there  it  was — a  skiff,  away  across  the  water.  I 
couldn't  tell  how  many  was  in  it.  It  kept  a-coming, 
and  when  it  was  abreast  of  me  I  see  there  warn't 
but  one  man  in  it.  Think's  I,  maybe  it's  pap,  though 
I  warn't  expecting  him.  He  dropped  below  me  with 
the  current,  and  by-and-by  he  came  a-swinging  up 
shore  in  the  easy  water,  and  he  went  by  so  close  I 
could  a  reached  out  the  gun  and  touched  him.  Well, 
it  was  pap,  sure  enough — and  sober,  too,  by  the  way 
he  laid  his  oars. 

I  didn't  lose  no  time.  The  next  minute  I  was 
a-spinning  down-stream  soft  but  quick  in  the  shade  of 
the  bank.  I  made  two  mile  and  a  half,  and  then 
struck  out  a  quarter  of  a  mile  or  more  towards  the 
middle  of  the  river,  because  pretty  soon  I  would  be 
passing  the  ferry-landing,  and  people  might  see  me 
and  hail  me.  I  got  out  amongst  the  drift-wood,  and 
then  laid  down  in  the  bottom  of  the  canoe  and  let  her 
float.  I  laid  there,  and  had  a  good  rest  and  a  smoke 
out  of  my  pipe,  looking  away  into  the  sky ;  not  a  cloud 
in  it.  The  sky  looks  ever  so  deep  when  you  lay  down 
on  your  back  in  the  moonshine ;  I  never  knowed  it 
before.  And  how  far  a  body  can  hear  on  the  water 


47 

such  nights !  I  heard  people  talking  at  the  ferry- 
landing.  I  heard  what  they  said,  too — every  word  of 
it.  One  man  said  it  was  getting  towards  the  long 
days  and  the  short  nights  now.  T'other  one  said 
this  warn't  one  of  the  short  ones,  he  reckoned — and 
then  they  laughed,  and  he  said  it  over  again,  and  they 
laughed  again ;  then  they  waked  up  another  fellow  and 
told  him,  and  laughed,  but  he  didn't  laugh  ;  he  ripped 
out  something  brisk,  and  said  let  him  alone.  The  first 
fellow  said  he  'lowed  to  tell  it  to  his  old  woman — she 
would  think  it  was  pretty  good  ;  but  he  said  that  warn't 
nothing  to  some  things  he  had  said  in  his  time.  I  heard 
one  man  say  it  was  nearly  three  o'clock,  and  he  hoped 
daylight  wouldn't  wait  more  than  about  a  week  longer. 
After  that  the  talk  got  further  and  further  away,  and 
I  couldn't  make  out  the  words  anymore;  but  I  could 
hear  the  mumble,  and  now  and  then  a  laugh,  too, 
but  it  seemed  a  long  ways  off. 

I  was  away  below  the  ferry  now.  I  rose  up,  and 
there  was  Jackson's  Island,  about  two  mile  and  a  half 
down-stream,  heavy-timbered  and  standing  up  out  of 
the  middle  of  the  river,  big  and  dark  and  solid,  like  a 
steamboat  without  any  lights.  There  warn't  any 
signs  of  the  bar  at  the  head — it  was  all  under  water 
now. 

It  didn't  take  me  long  to  get  there.  I  shot  past 
the  head  at  a  ripping  rate,  the  current  was  so  swift, 
and  then  I  got  into  the  dead  water  and  landed  on  the 
side  towards  the  Illinois  shore.  I  run  the  canoe  into 
a  deep  dent  in  the  bank  that  I  knowed  about ;  I  had 
to  part  the  willow  branches  to  get  in ;  and  when  I 
made  fast  nobody  could  a  seen  the  canoe  from  the 
outside. 


48 

I  went  up  and  set  down  on  a  log  at  the  head  of  the 
island,  and  looked  out  on  the  big  river  and  the  black 
drift-wood  and  away  over  to  the  town,  three  mile 
away,  where  there  was  three  or  four  lights  twinkling. 
A  monstrous  big  lumber-raft  was  about  a  mile  up 
stream,  coming  along  down,  with  a  lantern  in  the  mid 
dle  of  it.  I  watched  it  come  creeping  down,  and 
when  it  was  most  abreast  of  where  I  stood  I  heard  a 
man  say,  "  Stern  oars,  there !  heave  her  head  to  stab- 
board  !"  I  heard  that  just  as  plain  as  if  the  man  was 
by  my  side. 

There  was  a  little  gray  in  the  sky  now  ;  so  I  stepped 
into  the  woods,  and  laid  down  for  a  nap  before  break 
fast. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

THE  sun  was  up  so  high  when  I  waked  that  I 
judged  it  was  after  eight  o'clock.  I  laid  there  in  the 
grass  and  the  cool  shade  thinking  about  things,  and 
feeling  rested  and  ruther  comfortable  and  satisfied. 
I  could  see  the  sun  out  at  one  or  two  holes,  but  most 
ly  it  was  big  trees  all  about,  and  gloomy  in  there 
amongst  them.  There  was  freckled  places  on  the 
ground  where  the  light  sifted  down  through  the 
leaves,  and  the  freckled  places  swapped  about  a  little, 
showing  there  was  a  little  breeze  up  there.  A  couple 
of  squirrels  set  on  a  limb  and  jabbered  at  me  very 
friendly. 

I  was  powerful  lazy  and  comfortable — didn't  want 
to  get  up  and  cook  breakfast.  Well,  I  was  dozing  off 
again  when  I  thinks  I  hears  a  deep  sound  of  "  boom  !" 
away  up  the  river.  I  rouses  up,  and  rests  on  my 
elbow  and  listens;  pretty  soon  I  hears  it  again.  I 
hopped  up,  and  went  and  looked  out  at  a  hole  in  the 
leaves,  and  I  see  a  bunch  of  smoke  laying  on  the 
water  a  long  ways  up — about  abreast  the  ferry.  And 
there  was  the  ferry-boat  full  of  people  floating  along 
down.  I  knowed  what  was  the  matter  now.  "  Boom  !" 
I  see  the  white  smoke  squirt  out  of  the  ferry-boat's 
side.  You  see,  they  was  firing  cannon  over  the  water, 
trying  to  make  my  carcass  come  to  the  top. 

I  was  pretty  hungry,  but  it  warn't  going  to  do  for 

4HF 


50 

me  to  start  a  fire,  because  they  might  see  the  smoke. 
So  I  set  there  and  watched  the  cannon-smoke  and 
listened  to  the  boom.  The  river  was  a  mile  wide 
there,  and  it  always  looks  pretty  on  a  summer  morn 
ing — so  I  was  having  a  good  enough  time  seeing  them 
hunt  for  my  remainders  if  I  only  had  a  bite  to  eat. 
Well,  then  I  happened  to  think  how  they  always 
put  quicksilver  in  loaves  of  bread  and  float  them 
off,  because  they  always  go  right  to  the  drownded 
carcass  and  stop  there.  So,  says  I,  I'll  keep  a  look 
out,  and  if  any  of  them's  floating  around  after  me 
I'll  give  them  a  show.  I  changed  to  the  Illinois 
edge  of  the  island  to  see  what  luck  I  could  have,  and 
I  warn't  disappointed.  A  big  double  loaf  come  along, 
and  I  most  got  it  with  a  long  stick,  but  my  foot 
slipped  and  she  floated  out  further.  Of  course  I  was 
where  the  current  set  in  the  closest  to  the  shore — I 
knowed  enough  for  that.  But  by-and-by  along  comes 
another  one,  and  this  time  I  won.  I  took  out  the 
plug  and  shook  out  the  little  dab  of  quicksilver,  and 
set  my  teeth  in.  It  was  "  baker's  bread  " — what  the 
quality  eat ;  none  of  your  low-down  corn-pone. 

I  got  a  good  place  amongst  the  leaves,  and  set  there 
on  a  log,  munching  the  bread  and  watching  the  ferry* 
boat,  and  very  well  satisfied.  And  then  something 
struck  me.  I  says,  now  I  reckon  the  widow  or  the 
parson  or  somebody  prayed  that  this  bread  would  find 
me,  and  here  it  has  gone  and  done  it.  So  there  ain't 
no  doubt  but  there  is  something  in  that  thing — that 
is,  there's  something  in  it  when  a  body  like  the  widow 
or  the  parson  prays,  but  it  don't  work  for  me,  and  I 
reckon  it  don't  work  for  only  just  the  right  kind. 

I  lit  a  pipe  and  had  a  good  long  smoke,  and  went 


on  watching.  The  ferry-boat  was  floating  with  the 
current,  and  I  allowed  I'd  have  a  chance  to  see  who 
was  aboard  when  she  come  along,  because  she  would 
come  in  close,  where  the  bread  did.  When  she'd  got 
pretty  well  along  down  towards  me,  I  put  out  my 
pipe  and  went  to  where  I  fished  out  the  bread,  and 
laid  down  behind  a  log  on  the  back  in  a  little  open 
place.  Where  the  log  forked  I  could  peep  through. 

By-and-by  she  come  along,  and  she  drifted  in  so 
close  that  they  could  a  run  out  a  plank  and  walked 
ashore.  Most  everybody  was  on  the  boat.  Pap,  and 
Judge  Thatcher,  and  Bessie  Thatcher,  and  Jo  Harper, 
and  Tom  Sawyer,  and  his  old  Aunt  Polly,  and  Sid 
and  Mary,  and  plenty  more.  Everybody  was  talking 
about  the  murder,  but  the  captain  broke  in  and  says: 

"  Look  sharp,  now ;  the  current  sets  in  the  closest 
here,  and  maybe  he's  washed  ashore  and  got  tangled 
amongst  the  brush  at  the  water's  edge.  I  hope  so, 
anyway." 

I  didn't  hope  so.  They  all  crowded  up  and  leaned 
over  the  rails,  nearly  in  my  face,  and  kept  still,  watch 
ing  with  all  their  might.  I  could  see  them  first-rate, 
but  they  couldn't  see  me.  Then  the  captain  sung 
out: 

"  Stand  away !"  and  the  cannon  let  off  such  a  blast 
right  before  me  that  it  made  me  deef  with  the  noise 
and  pretty  near  blind  with  the  smoke,  and  I  judged  I 
was  gone.  If  they'd  a  had  some  bullets  in,  I  reckon 
they'd  a  got  the  corpse  they  was  after.  Well,  I  see  I 
warn't  hurt,  thanks  to  goodness.  The  boat  floated 
on  and  went  out  of  sight  around  the  shoulder  of  the 
island.  I  could  hear  the  booming  now  and  then,  fur 
ther  and  further  off,  and  by-and-by,  after  an  hour,  I 


didn't  hear  it  no  more.  The  island  was  three  mile 
long.  I  judged  they  had  got  to  the  foot,  and  was  giv 
ing  it  up.  But  they  didn't  yet  a  while.  They  turned 
around  the  foot  of  the  island  and  started  up  the  chan 
nel  on  the  Missouri  side,  under  steam,  and  booming 
once  in  a  while  as  they  went.  I  crossed  over  to  that 
side  and  watched  them.  When  they  got  abreast  the 
head  of  the  island  they  quit  shooting  and  dropped 
over  to  the  Missouri  shore  and  went  home  to  the 
town. 

I  knowed  I  was  all  right  now.  Nobody  else  would 
come  a-hunting  after  me.  I  got  my  traps  out  of  the 
canoe  and  made  me  a  nice  camp  in  the  thick  woods. 
I  made  a  kind  of  a  tent  out  of  my  blankets  to  put  my 
things  under  so  the  rain  couldn't  get  at  them.  I 
catched  a  catfish  and  haggled  him  open  with  my  saw, 
and  towards  sundown  I  started  my  camp  fire  and  had 
supper.  Then  I  set  out  a  line  to  catch  some  fish  for 
breakfast. 

When  it  was  dark  I  set  by  my  camp  fire  smoking, 
and  feeling  pretty  well  satisfied;'  but  by-and-by  it 
got  sort  of  lonesome,  and  so  I  went  and  set  on  the 
bank  and  listened  to  the  currents  washing  along,  and 
counted  the  stars  and  drift-logs  and  rafts  that  come 
down,  and  then  went  to  bed ;  there  ain't  no  better 
way  to  put  in  time  when  you  are  lonesome;  you 
can't  stay  so,  you  soon  get  over  it. 

And  so  for  three  days  and  nights.  No  difference — 
just  the  same  thing.  But  the  next  day  I  went  explor 
ing  around  down  through  the  island.  I  was  boss  of 
it ;  it  all  belonged  to  me,  so  to  say,  and  I  wanted  to 
know  all  about  it ;  but  mainly  I  wanted  to  put  in  the 
time.  I  found  plenty  strawberries,  ripe  and  prime ' 


53 

and  green  summer-grapes,  and  green  razberries  ;  and 
the  green  blackberries  was  just  beginning  to  show. 
They  would  all  come  handy  by-and-by,  I  judged. 

Well,  I  went  fooling  along  in  the  deep  woods  till  I 
judged  I  warn't  far  from  the  foot  of  the  island.  I 
had  my  gun  along,  but  I  hadn't  shot  nothing ;  it  was 
for  protection ;  thought  I  would  kill  some  game  nigh 
home.  About  this  time  I  mighty  near  stepped  on  a 
good-sized  snake,  and  it  went  sliding  off  through  the 
grass  and  flowers,  and  I  after  it,  trying  to  get  a  shot 
at  it.  I  clipped  along,  and  all  of  a  sudden  I  bounded 
right  on  to  the  ashes  of  a  camp  fire  that  was  still 
smoking. 

My  heart  jumped  up  amongst  my  lungs.  I  never  wait 
ed  for  to  look  further,  but  uncocked  my  gun  and  went 
sneaking  back  on  my  tip-toes  as  fast  as  ever  I  could. 
Every  now  and  then  I  stopped  a  second  amongst  the 
thick  leaves  and  listened,  but  my  breath  come  so  hard 
I  couldn't  hear  nothing  else.  I  slunk  along  another 
piece  further,  then  listened  again ;  and  so  on,  and  so 
on.  If  I  see  a  stump,  I  took  it  for  a  man;  if  I  trod  on 
a  stick  and  broke  it,  it  made  me  feel  like  a  person  had 
cut  one  of  my  breaths  in  two  and  I  only  got  half,  and 
the  short  half,  too. 

When  I  got  to  camp  I  warn't  feeling  very  brash, 
there  warn't  much  sand  in  my  craw ;  but  I  says,  this 
ain't  no  time  to  be  fooling  around.  So  J  got  all  my 
traps  into  my  canoe  again  so  as  to  have  them  out  of 
sight,  and  I  put  out  the  fire  and  scattered  the  ashes 
around  to  look  like  an  old  last  year's  camp,  and  then 
clumb  a  tree. 

I  reckon  I  was  up  in  the  tree  two  hours ;  but  I  didn't 
see  nothing,  I  didn't  hear  nothing — I  only  thought  I 


54 

heard  and  seen  as  much  as  a  thousand  things.  Well, 
I  couldn't  stay  up  there  forever;  so  at  last  I  got  down, 
but  I  kept  in  the  thick  woods  and  on  the  lookout  all 
the  time.  All  I  could  get  to  eat  was  berries  and  what 
was  left  over  from  breakfast. 

By  the  time  it  was  night  I  was  pretty  hungry.  So 
when  it  was  good  and  dark  I  slid  out  from  shore  be 
fore  moonrise  and  paddled  over  to  the  Illinois  bank — 
about  a  quarter  of  a  mile.  I  went  out  in  the  woods 
and  cooked  a  supper,  and  I  had  about  made  up  my 
mind  I  would  stay  there  all  night  when  I  hear  a  plunk- 
ety-plunk,  plunkety-plunk,  and  says  to  myself,  horses 
coming;  and  next  I  hear  people's  voices.  I  got  every 
thing  into  the  canoe  as  quick  as  I  could,  and  then  went 
creeping  through  the  woods  to  see  what  I  could  find 
out.  I  hadn't  got  far  when  I  hear  a  man  say : 

"  We  better  camp  here  if  we  can  find  a  good  place ; 
the  horses  is  about  beat  out.  Let's  look  around.'* 

I  didn't  wait,  but  shoved  out  and  paddled  away 
easy.  I  tied  up  in  the  old  place,  and  reckoned  I 
would  sleep  in  the  canoe. 

I  didn't  sleep  much.  I  couldn't,  somehow,  for  think 
ing.  And  every  time  I  waked  up  I  thought  somebody 
had  me  by  the  neck.  So  the  sleep  didn't  do  me  no 
good.  By-and-by  I  says  to  myself,  I  can't  live  this 
way  •  I'm  a-going  to  find  out  who  it  is  that's  here  on 
the  island  with  me;  I'll  find  it  out  or  bust.  Well,  I  felt 
better  right  off. 

So  I  took  my  paddle  and  slid  out  from  shore  just  a 
step  or  two,  and  then  let  the  canoe  drop  along  down 
amongst  the  shadows.  The  moon  was  shining,  and 
outside  of  the  shadows  it  made  it  most  as  light  as 
day.  I  poked  along  well  on  to  an  hour,  everything  still 


55 

as  rocks  and  sound  asleep.  Well,  by  this  time  I  was 
most  down  to  the  foot  of  the  island.  A  little  ripply, 
cool  breeze  begun  to  blow,  and  that  was  as  good  as 
saying  the  night  was  about  done.  I  give  her  a  turn 
with  the  paddle  and  brung  her  nose  to  shore ;  then  I 
got  my  gun  and  slipped  out  and  into  the  edge  of  the 
woods.  I  sat  down  there  on  a  log,  and  looked  out 
through  the  leaves.  I  see  the  moon  go  off  watch,  and 
the  darkness  begin  to  blanket  the  river.  But  in  a  lit 
tle  while  I  see  a  pale  streak  over  the  tree-tops,  and 
knowed  the  day  was  coming.  So  I  took  my  gun  and 
slipped  off  towards  where  I  had  run  across  that  camp 
fire,  stopping  every  minute  or  two  to  listen.  But  I 
hadn't  no  luck  somehow ;  I  couldn't  seem  to  find  the 
place.  But  by-and-by,  sure  enough,  I  catched  a  glimpse 
of  fire  away  through  the  trees.  I  went  for  it,  cau 
tious  and  slow.  By-and-by  I  was  close  enough  to  have 
a  look,  and  there  laid  a  man  on  the  ground.  It  most 
give  me  the  fan-tods.  He  had  a  blanket  around  his 
head,  and  his  head  was  nearly  in  the  fire.  I  set  there 
behind  a  clump  of  bushes  in  about  six  foot  of  him, 
and  kept  my  eyes  on  him  steady.  It  was  getting 
gray  daylight  now.  Pretty  soon  he  gapped  and 
stretched  himself  and  hove  off  the  blanket,  and  it 
was  Miss  Watson's  Jim  !  I  bet  I  was  glad  to  see  him. 
I  says : 

"  Hello,  Jim  !"  and  skipped  out. 

He  bounced  up  and  stared  at  me  wild.  The*n  he 
drops  down  on  his  knees,  and  puts  his  hands  together 
and  says : 

"  Doan'  hurt  me  —  don't!  I  hain't  ever  done  no 
harm  to  a  ghos*.  I  awluz  liked  dead  people,  en  done 
all  I  could  for  'em.  You  go  en  git  in  de  river  agin, 


56 

whah  you  b'longs,  en  doan'  do  nuffn  to  Ole  Jim,  'at 
'uz  awluz  yo'  fren'." 

Well,  I  warn't  long  making  him  understand  I  warn't 
dead.  I  was  ever  so  glad  to  see  Jim.  I  warn't  lone 
some  now.  I  told  him  I  warn't  afraid  of  him  telling 
the  people  where  I  was.  I  talked  along,  but  he  only 
set  there  and  looked  at  me  ;  never  said  nothing.  Then 
I  says : 

"  It's  good  daylight.  Le's  get  breakfast.  Make  up 
your  camp  fire  good." 

"What's  de  use  er  makin'  up  de  camp  fire  to  cook 
strawbries  en  sich  truck?  But  you  got  a  gun,  hain't 
you  ?  Den  we  kin  git  sumfn  better  den  strawbries." 

"  Strawberries  and  such  truck,"  I  says.  "  Is  that 
what  you  live  on  ?" 

"  I  couldn'  git  nuffn  else,"  he  says. 

"  Why,  how  long  you  been  on  the  island,  Jim  ?" 

"  I  come  heah  de  night  arter  you's  killed." 

"What,  all  that  time?" 

"  Yes-indeedy." 

"  And  ain't  you  had  nothing  but  that  kind  of  rub- 
bage  to  eat  ?" 

"  No,  sah — nuffn  else." 

"  Well,  you  must  be  most  starved,  ain't  you  ?" 

"  I  reck'n  I  could  eat  a  hoss.  I  think  I  could.  How 
long  you  ben  on  de  islan'  ?" 

"  Since  the  night  I  got  killed." 

"  No  !  W'y,  what  has  you  lived  on  ?  But  you  got 
a  gun.  Oh  yes,  you  got  a  gun.  Dat's  good.  Now 
you  kill  sumfn  en  I'll  make  up  de  fire." 

So  we  went  over  to  where  the  canoe  was,  and  while 
he  built  a  fire  in  a  grassy  open  place  amongst  the  trees, 
I  fetched  meal  and  bacon  and  coffee,  and  coffee-pot 


57 

and  frying-pan,  and  sugar  and  tin  cups,  and  the  nigger 
was  set  back  considerable,  because  he  reckoned  it  was 
all  done  with  witchcraft.  I  catched  a  good  big  catfish, 
too,  and  Jim  cleaned  him  with  his  knife,  and  fried  him. 

When  breakfast  was  ready  we  lolled  on  the  grass 
and  eat  it  smoking  hot.  Jim  laid  it  in  with  all  his 
might,  for  he  was  most  about  starved.  Then  when 
we  had  got  pretty  well  stuffed,  we  laid  off  and  lazied. 

By-and-by  Jim  says: 

"  But  looky  here,  Huck,  who  wuz  it  dat  'uz  killed  in 
dat  shanty  ef  it  warn't  you  ?" 

Then  I  told  him  the  whole  thing,  and  he  said  it  was 
smart.  He  said  Tom  Sawyer  couldn't  get  up  no  bet 
ter  plan  than  what  I  had.  Then  I  says : 

"  How  do  you  come  to  be  here,  Jim,  and  how'd  you 
get  here?" 

He  looked  pretty  uneasy,  and  didn't  say  nothing  for 
a  minute.  Then  he  says: 

"  Maybe  I  better  not  tell." 

"  Why,  Jim  ?" 

"  Well,  dey's  reasons.  But  you  wouldn'  tell  on  me 
ef  I  'uz  to  tell  you,  would  you,  Huck?" 

"  Blamed  if  I  would,  Jim." 

"  Well,  I  b'lieve  you,  Huck.     I— I  run  off" 

"Jim!" 

"  But  mind,  you  said  you  wouldn'  tell — you  know 
you  said  you  wouldn'  tell,  Huck." 

"  Well,  I  did.  I  said  I  wouldn't,  and  I'll  stick  to  it. 
Honest  tnjun,  I  will.  People  would  call  me  a  low  down 
.Ablitionist  and  despise  me  for  keeping  mum — but  that 
don't  make  no  difference.  I  ain't  a-going  to  tell,  and  I 
ain't  a-going  back  there,  anyways.  So,  now,  le's  know 
all  about  it." 


58 

"  Well,  you  see,  it  'uz  dis  way.  Ole  missus — dat's 
Miss  Watson — she  pecks  on  me  all  de  time,  en  treats 
me  pooty  rough,  but  she  awluz  said  she  wouldn'  sell 
me  down  to  Orleans.  But  I  noticed  dey  wuz  a  nig 
ger  trader  roun'  de  place  considable  lately,  en  I  be 
gin  to  git  oneasy.  Well,  one  night  I  creeps  to  de  do' 
pooty  late,  en  de  do'  warn't  quite  shet,  en  I  hear  ole 
missus  tell  de  widder  she  gwyne  to  sell  me  down  to 
Orleans,  but  she  didn'  want  to,  but  she  could  git  eight 
hund'd  dollars  for  me,  en  it  'uz  sich  a  big  stack  o' 
money  she  couldn'  resis'.  De  widder  she  try  to  git 
her  to  say  she  wouldn'  do  it,  but  I  never  waited  to 
hear  de  res'.  I  lit  out  mighty  quick,  I  tell  you. 

"  I  tuck  out  en  shin  down  de  hill,  en  'spec  to  steal 
a  skift  'long  de  sho'  som'ers  'bove  de  town,  but  dey 
wuz  people  a-stirring  yit,  so  I  hid  in  de  ole  tumble 
down  cooper-shop  on  de  bank  to  wait  for  everybody 
to  go  'way.  Well,  I  wuz  dah  all  night.  Dey  wuz 
somebody  roun'  all  de  time.  'Long  'bout  six  in  de 
mawnin'  skifts  begin  to  go  by,  en  'bout  eight  er  nine 
every  skift  dat  went  'long  wuz  talkin'  'bout  how  yo' 
pap  come  over  to  de  town  en  say  you's  killed.  Dese 
las'  skifts  wuz  full  o'  ladies  en  genlmen  a-goin'  over  for 
to  see  de  place.  Sometimes  dey'd  pull  up  at  de  sho' 
en  take  a  res'  b'fo'  dey  started  acrost,  so  by  de  talk  I 
got  to  know  all  'bout  de  killin'.  I  'uz  powerful  sorry 
you's  killed,  Huck,  but  I  ain't  no  mo*  now. 

"  I  laid  dah  under  de  shavin's  all  day.  I  'uz  hun 
gry,  but  I  warn't  afeard  ;  bekase  I  knowed  ole  missus 
en  de  widder  wuz  goin'  to  start  to  de  camp-meet'n'^ 
right  arter  breakfas'  en  be  gone  all  day,  en  dey 
knows  I  goes  off  wid  de  cattle  'bout  daylight,  so  dey 
wouldn'  'spec  to  see  me  roun'  de  place,  en  so  dey 


59 

wouldn'  miss  me  tell  arter  dark  in  de  evenin'.  De 
yuther  servants  wouldn'  miss  me,  kase  dey'd  shin  out 
en  take  holiday  soon  as  de  ole  folks  'uz  out'n  de 
way. 

"  Well,  when  it  come  dark  I  tuck  out  up  de  river 
road,  en  went  'bout  two  mile  er  more  to  whah  dey 
warn't  no  houses.  I'd  made  up  my  mine  'bout  what 
I's  agwyne  to  do.  You  see,  ef  I  kep'  on  tryin'  to  git 
away  afoot,  de  dogs  'ud  track  me ;  ef  I  stole  a  skift  to 
cross  over,  dey'd  miss  dat  skift,  you  see,  en  dey'd 
know  'bout  whah  I'd  Ian'  on  de  yuther  side,  en  whah 
to  pick  up  my  track.  So  I  says,  a  raff  is  what  I's 
arter ;  it  doan'  make  no  track. 

"  I  see  a  light  a-comin'  roun'  de  p'int  bymeby,  so 
I  wade'  in  en  shove'  a  log  ahead  o'  me  en  swum  more'n 
half-way  acrost  de  river,  en  got  in  'mongst  de  drift 
wood,  en  kep'  my  head  down  low,  en  kinder  swum 
agin  de  current  tell  de  raft  come  along.  Den  I 
swum  to  de  stern  uv  it  en  tuck  a-holt.  It  clouded  up 
en  'uz  pooty  dark  for  a  little  while.  So  I  dumb  up 
en  laid  down  on  de  planks.  De  men  'uz  all  'way 
yonder  in  de  middle,  whah  de  lantern  wuz.  De  river 
wuz  a-risin',  en  dey  wuz  a  good  current ;  so  I  reck'n'd 
'at  by  fo*  in  de  mawnin'  I'd  be  twenty-five  mile  down 
de  river,  en  den  I'd  slip  in  jis  b'fo'  daylight  en  swim 
asho',  en  take  to  de  woods  on  de  Illinois  side. 

"  But  I  didn'  have  no  luck.  When  we  'uz  mos' 
down  to  de  head  er  de  islan'  a  man  begin  to  come  aft 
wid  de  lantern.  I  see  it  warn't  no  use  fer  to  wait,  so 
I  slid  overboard  en  struck  out  fer  de  islan'.  Well. 
I  had  a  notion  I  could  Ian'  mos'  anywhers,  but  I 
couldn't — bank  too  bluff.  I  'uz  mos'  to  de  foot  er 
de  islan'  b'fo'  I  foun'  a  good  place.  I  went  into  de 


6o 


woods  en  jedged  I  wouldn'  fool  wid  raffs  no  mo', 
long  as  dey  move  de  lantern  roun'  so.  I  had  my  pipe 
en  a  plug  er  dog-leg,  en  some  matches  in  my  cap,  en 
dey  warn't  wet,  so  I  'uz  all  right." 

"  And  so  you  ain't  had  no  meat  nor  bread  to  eat 
all  this  time?  Why  didn't  you  get  mud-turkles ?" 

"  How  you  gwyne  to  git  'm?  You  can't  slip  up  on 
um  en  grab  um  ;  en  how's  a  body  gwyne  to  hit  um 
wid  a  rock?  How  could  a  body  do  it  in  de  night? 
En  I  warn't  gwyne  to  show  mysef  on  de  bank  in  de 
daytime." 

"  Well,  that's  so.  You've  had  to  keep  in  the  woods 
all  the  time,  of  course.  Did  you  hear  'em  shooting 
the  cannon  ?" 

"  Oh  yes.  I  knowed  dey  was  arter  you.  I  see  um 
go  by  heah — watched  um  thoo  de  bushes." 

Some  young  birds  come  along,  flying  a  yard  or  two 
at  a  time  and  lighting.  Jim  said  it  was  a  sign  it  was 
going  to  rain.  He  said  it  was  a  sign  when  young 
chickens  flew  that  way,  and  so  he  reckoned  it  was  the 
same  way  when  young  birds  done  it.  I  was  going  to 
catch  some  of  them,  but  Jim  wouldn't  let  me.  He 
said  it  was  death.  He  said  his  father  laid  mighty 
sick  once,  and  some  of  them  catched  a  bird,  and  his 
old  granny  said  his  father  would  die,  and  he  did. 

And  Jim  said  you  musn't  count  the  things  you  are 
going  to  cook  for  dinner,  because  that  would  bring 
bad  luck.  The  same  if  you  shook  the  table-cloth  after 
sun-down.  And  he  said  if  a  man  owned  a  beehive 
and  that  man  died,  the  bees  must  be  told  about  it 
before  sun-up  next  morning,  or  else  the  bees  would  all 
weaken  down  and  quit  work  and  die.  Jim  said  bees 
wouldn't  sting  idiots;  but  I  didn't  believe  that,  be- 


6i 


cause  I  had  tried  them  lots  of  times  myself,  and  they 
wouldn't  sting  me. 

I  had  heard  about  some  of  these  things  before,  but 
not  all  of  them.  Jim  knowed  all  kinds  of  signs.  He 
said  he  knowed  most  everything.  I  said  it  looked  to 
me  like  all  the  signs  was  about  bad  luck,  and  so  I 
asked  him  if  there  warn't  any  good-luck  signs.  He 
says: 

"Mighty  few — an'  dey  ain't  no  use  to  a  body. 
What  you  want  to  know  when  good  luck's  a-comin' 
for?  Want  to  keep  it  off?"  And  he  said:  "  Ef  you's 
got  hairy  arms  en  a  hairy  breas',  it's  a  sign  dat  you's 
agwyne  to  be  rich.  Well,  dey's  some  use  in  a  sign 
like  dat,  'kase  it's  so  fur  ahead.  You  see,  maybe 
you's  got  to  be  po'  a  long  time  fust,  en  so  you  might 
git  discourage'  en  kill  yo'sef  'f  you  didn'  know  by  de 
sign  dat  you  gwyne  to  be  rich  bymeby." 

"  Have  you  got  hairy  arms  and  a  hairy  breast,  Jim  ?" 

"  What's  de  use  to  ax  dat  question  ?  Don't  you  see 
I  has?" 

"  Well,  are  you  rich  ?" 

"  No,  but  I  ben  rich  wunst,  and  gwyne  to  be  rich 
agin.  W'unst  I  had  foteen  dollars,  but  I  tuck  to 
specalat'n',  en  got  busted  out." 

"  What  did  you  speculate  in,  Jim  ?" 

"  Well,  fust  I  tackled  stock." 

"What  kind  of  stock?" 

"Why,  live  stock — cattle,  you  know.  I  put  ten 
dollars  in  a  cow.  But  I  ain'  gwyne  to  resk  no  mo' 
money  in  stock.  De  cow  up  'n'  died  on  my  han's." 

"  So  you  lost  the  ten  dollars." 

• "  No,  I  didn't  lose  it  all.     I  on'y  los'  'bout  nine  of 
it.    I  sole  de  hide  en  taller  for  a  dollar  en  ten  cents." 


"  You  had  five  dollars  and  ten  cents  left.  Did  you 
speculate  any  more  ?" 

"Yes.  You  know  that  one-laigged  nigger  dat 
b'longs  to  old  Misto  Bradish  ?  Well,  he  sot  up  a  bank, 
en  say  anybody  dat  put  in  a  dollar  would  git  fo'  dol 
lars  mo'  at  de  en'  er  de  year.  Well,  all  de  niggers 
went  in,  but  dey  didn't  have  much.  I  wuz  de  on'y 
one  dat  had  much.  So  I  stuck  out  for  mo'  dan  fo' 
dollars,  en  I  said  'f  I  didn'  git  it  I'd  start  a  bank 
mysef.  Well,  o'  course  dat  nigger  want'  to  keep  me 
out  er  de  business,  bekase  he  says  dey  warn't  business 
'nough  for  two  banks,  so  he  say  I  could  put  in  my  five 
dollars  en  he  pay  me  thirty-five  at  de  en'  er  de  year. 

"  So  I  done  it.  Den  I  reck'n'd  I'd  inves'  de  thirty- 
five  dollars  right  off  en  keep  things  a-movin'.  Dey 
wuz  a  nigger  name'  Bob,  dat  had  ketched  a  wood-flat, 
en  his  marster  didn'  know  it ;  en  I  bought  it  off'n  him 
en  told  him  to  take  de  thirty-five  dollars  when  de 
en'  er  de  year  come;  but  somebody  stole  de  wood- 
flat  dat  night,  en  nex'  day  de  one-laigged  nigger  say 
de  bank's  busted.  So  dey  didn'  none  uv  us  git  no 
money." 

"What  did  you  do  with  the  ten  cents,  Jim?" 

"  Well,  I  'uz  gwyne  to  spen'  it,  but  I  had  a  dream, 
en  de  dream  tole  me  to  give  it  to  a  nigger  name' 
Balum — Balum's  Ass  dey  call  him  for  short;  he's  one 
er  dem  chuckle-heads,  you  know.  But  he's  lucky, 
dey  say,  en  I  see  I  warn't  lucky.  De  dream  say  let 
Balum  inves'  de  ten  cents  en  he'd  make  a  raise  for 
me.  Well,  Balum  he  tuck  de  money,  en  when  he  wuz 
in  church  he  hear  de  preacher  say  dat  whoever  give 
to  de  po'  len*  to  de  Lord,  en  boun'  to  git  his  money 
back  a  hund'd  tknes.  So  Balum  he  tuck  en  give  de 


MISTO  BRADISH'S  NIGGER 


63 

ten  cents  to  de  po',  en  laid  low  to  see  what  wuz 
gwyne  to  come  of  it." 

"  Well,  what  did  come  of  it,  Jim?" 

"  Nuffn  never  come  of  it.  I  couldn'  manage  to 
k'leck  dat  money  no  way ;  en  Balum  he  couldn'.  I 
ain'  gwyne  to  len'  no  mo'  money  'dout  I  see  de  secu 
rity.  Boun'  to  git  yo'  money  back  a  hund'd  times,  de 
preacher  says !  Ef  I  could  git  de  ten  cents  back,  I'd 
call  it  squah,  en  be  glad  er  de  chanst." 

"  Well,  it's  all  right  anyway,  Jim,  long  as  you're 
going  to  be  rich  again  some  time  or  other." 

"  Yes ;  en  I's  rich  now,  come  to  look  at  it.  I  owns 
mysef,  en  I's  wuth  eight  hund'd  dollars.  I  wisht  I 
had  de  money,  I  wouldn'  want  no  mo'." 


CHAPTER  IX 

I  WANTED  to  go  and  look  at  a  place  right  about 
the  middle  of  the  island  that  I'd  found  when  I  was 
exploring ;  so  we  started  and  soon  got  to  it,  because 
the  island  was  only  three  miles  long  and  a  quarter  of 
a  mile  wide. 

This  place  was  a  tolerable  long,  steep  hill  or  ridge 
about  forty  foot  high.  We  had  a  rough  time  getting 
to  the  top,  the  sides  was  so  steep  and  the  bushes  so 
thick.  We  tramped  and  dumb  around  all  over  it,  and 
by-and-by  found  a  good  big  cavern  in  the  rock,  most 
up  to  the  top  on  the  side  towards  Illinois.  The  cav 
ern  was  as  big  as  two  or  three  rooms  bunched  togeth 
er,  and  Jim  could  stand  up  straight  in  it.  It  was  cool 
in  there.  Jim  was  for  putting  our  traps  in  there  right 
away,  but  I  said  we  didn't  want  to  be  climbing  up  and 
down  there  all  the  time. 

Jim  said  if  we  had  the  canoe  hid  in  a  good  place, 
and  had  all  the  traps  in  the  cavern,  we  could  rush 
there  if  anybody  was  to  come  to  the  island,  and  they 
would  never  find  us  without  dogs.  And,  besides,  he 
said  them  little  bfrds  had  said  it  was  going  to  rain, 
and  did  I  want  the  things  to  get  wet  ? 

So  we  went  back  and  got  the  canoe,  and  paddled  up 
abreast  the  cavern,  and  lugged  all  the  traps  up  there. 
Then  we  hunted  up  a  place  close  by  to  hide  the  canoe 
in,  amongst  the  thick  willows.  We  took  some  fish  off 


65 

of  the  lines  and  set  them  again,  and  begun  to  get 
ready  for  dinner. 

The  door  of  the  cavern  was  big  enough  to  roll  a 
hogshead  in,  and  on  one  side  of  the  door  the  floor 
stuck  out  a  little  bit,  and  was  flat  and  a  good  place 
to  build  a  fire  on.  So  we  built  it  there  and  cooked 
dinner. 

We  spread  the  blankets  inside  for  a  carpet,  and  eat 
our  dinner  in  there.  We  put  all  the  other  things 
handy  at  the  back  of  the  cavern.  Pretty  soon  it  dark 
ened  up,  and  begun  to  thunder  and  lighten  ;  so  the 
birds  was  right  about  it.  Directly  it  begun  to  rain, 
and  it  rained  like  all  fury,  too,  and  I  never  see  the 
wind  blow  so.  It  was  one  of  these  regular  summer 
storms.  It  would  get  so  dark  that  it  looked  all  blue- 
black  outside,  and  lovely ;  and  the  rain  would  thrash 
along  by  so  thick  that  the  trees  off  a  little  ways  looked 
dim  and  spider-webby ;  and  here  would  come  a  blast 
of  wind  that  would  bend  the  trees  down  and  turn 
up  the  pale  underside  of  the  leaves ;  and  then  a  per 
fect  ripper  of  a  gust  would  follow  along  and  set  the 
branches  to  tossing  their  arms  as  if  they  was  just 
wild  ;  and  next,  when  it  was  just  about  the  bluest 
and  blackest  — fst !  it  was  as  bright  as  glory,  and 
you'd  have  a  little  glimpse  of  tree -tops  a-plunging 
about  away  off  yonder  in  the  storm,  hundreds  of 
yards  further  than  you  could  see  before ;  dark  as  sin 
again  in  a  second,  and  now  you'd  hear  the  thunder 
let  go  with  an  awful  crash,  and  then  go  rumbling, 
grumbling,  tumbling  down  the  sky  towards  the  under 
side  of  the  world,  like  rolling  empty  barrels  down 
stairs — where  it's  long  stairs  and  they  bounce  a  good 
deal,  you  know. 

SHF 


66 


"  Jim,  this  is  nice,"  I  says.  "  I  wouldn't  want  to  be 
nowhere  else  but  here.  Pass  me  along  another  hunk 
of  fish  and  some  hot  corn-bread." 

"  Well,  you  wouldn't  a  ben  here  'f  it  hadn't  a  ben 
for  Jim.  You'd  a  ben  down  dah  in  de  woods  widout 
any  dinner,  en  gittn'  mos'  drownded,  too ;  dat  you 
would,  honey.  Chickens  knows  when  it's  gwyne  to 
rain,  en  so  do  de  birds,  chile." 

The  river  went  on  raising  and  raising  for  ten  or 
twelve  days,  till  at  last  it  was  over  the  banks.  The 
water  was  three  or  four  foot  deep  on  the  island  in  the 
low  places  and  on  the  Illinois  bottom.  On  that  side  it 
was  a  good  many  miles  wide,  but  on  the  Missouri  side 
it  was  the  same  old  distance  across — a  half  a  mile — 
because  the  Missouri  shore  was  just  a  wall  of  high 
bluffs. 

Daytimes  we  paddled  all  over  the  island  in  the  ca 
noe.  It  was  mighty  cool  and  shady  in  the  deep  woods, 
even  if  the  sun  was  blazing  outside.  We  went  wind 
ing  in  and  out  amongst  the  trees,  and  sometimes  the 
vines  hung  so  thick  we  had  to  back  away  and  go  some 
other  way.  Well,  on  every  old  broken-down  tree  you 
could  see  rabbits,  and  snakes,  and  such  things ;  and 
when  the  island  had  been  overflowed  a  day  or  two 
they  got  so  tame,  on  account  of  being  hungry,  that 
you  could  paddle  right  up  and  put  your  hand  on  them 
if  you  wanted  to ;  but  not  the  snakes  and  turtles — 
they  would  slide  off  in  the  water.  The  ridge  our  cav 
ern  was  in  was  full  of  them.  We  could  a  had  pets 
enough  if  we'd  wanted  them. 

One  night  we  catched  a  little  section  of  a  lumber- 
raft — nice  pine  planks.  It  was  twelve  foot  wide  and 
about  fifteen  or  sixteen  foot  long,  and  the  top  stood 


\ 


67 

above  water  six  or  seven  inches — a  solid,  level  floor. 
We  could  see  saw-logs  go  by  in  the  daylight  some 
times,  but  we  let  them  go ;  we  didn't  show  ourselves 
in  daylight. 

Another  night  when  we  was  up  at  the  head  of  the 
island,  just  before  daylight,  here  comes  a  frame-house 
down,  on  the  west  side.  She  was  a  two-story,  and 
tilted  over  considerable.  We  paddled  out  and  got 
aboard — clumb  in  at  an  up-stairs  window.  But  it  was 
too  dark  to  see  yet,  so  we  made  the  canoe  fast  and 
set  in  her  to  wait  for  daylight. 

The  light  begun  to  come  before  we  got  to  the 
foot  of  the  island.  Then  we  looked  in  at  the  win 
dow.  We  could  make  out  a  bed,  and  a  table,  and  two 
old  chairs,  and  lots  of  things  around  about  on  the  floor, 
and  there  was  clothes  hanging  against  the  wall.  There 
was  something  laying  on  the  floor  in  the  far  corner 
that  looked  like  a  man.  So  Jim  says: 

"  Hello,  you  !" 

But  it  didn't  budge.  So  I  hollered  again,  and  then 
Jim  says : 

"  De  man  ain't  asleep — he's  dead.  You  hold  still — 
I'll  go  en  see." 

He  went,  and  bent  down  and  looked,  and  says : 

"  It's  a  dead  man.  Yes,  indeedy ;  naked,  too.  He's 
ben  shot  in  de  back.  I  reck'n  he's  ben  dead  two  er 
three  days.  Come  in,  Huck,  but  doan'  look  at  his 
face — it's  too  gashly." 

I  didn't  look  at  him  at  all.  Jim  throwed  some  old 
rags  over  him,  but  he  needn't  done  it ;  I  didn't  want 
to  see  him.  There  was  heaps  of  old  greasy  cards  scat 
tered  around  over  the  floor,  and  old  whiskey  bottles, 
and  a  couple  of  masks  made  out  of  black  cloth ;  and 


68 


all  over  the  walls  was  the  ignorantest  kind  of  words 
and  pictures  made  with  charcoal.  There  was  two 
old  dirty  calico  dresses,  and  a  sun -bonnet,  and  some 
women's  underclothes  hanging  against  the  wall,  and 
some  men's  clothing,  too.  We  put  the  lot  into  the 
canoe — it  might  come  good.  There  was  a  boy's  old 
speckled  straw  hat  on  the  floor ;  I  took  that,  too. 
And  there  was  a  bottle  that  had  had  milk  in  it,  and  it 
had  a  rag  stopper  for  a  baby  to  suck.  We  would 
a  took  the  bottle,  but  it  was  broke.  There  was  a 
seedy  old  chest,  and  an  old  hair  trunk  with  the  hinges 
broke.  They  stood  open,  but  there  warn't  nothing 
left  in  them  that  was  any  account.  The  way  things 
was  scattered  about  we  reckoned  the  people  left  in 
a  hurry,  and  warn't  fixed  so  as  to  carry  off  most  of 
their  stuff. 

We  got  an  old  tin  lantern,  and  a  butcher-knife  with 
out  any  handle,  and  a  bran  -  new  Barlow  knife  worth 
two  bits  in  any  store,  and  a  lot  of  tallow  candles,  and 
a  tin  candlestick,  and  a  gourd,  and  a  tin  cup,  and  a 
ratty  old  bedquilt  off  the  bed,  and  a  reticule  with 
needles  and  pins  and  beeswax  and  buttons  and  thread 
and  all  such  truck  in  it,  and  a  hatchet  and  some  nails, 
and  a  fish-line  as  thick  as  my  little  finger  with  some 
monstrous  hooks  on  it,  and  a  roll  of  buckskin,  and  a 
leather  dog-collar,  and  a  horseshoe,  and  some  vials  of 
medicine  that  didn't  have  no  label  on  them ;  and  just 
as  we  was  leaving  I  found  a  tolerable  good  curry-comb, 
and  Jim  he  found  a  ratty  old  fiddle-bow,  and  a  wood 
en  leg.  The  straps  was  broke  off  of  it,  but,  barring 
that,  it  was  a  good  enough  leg,  though  it  was  too  long 
for  me  and  not  long  enough  for  Jim,  and  we  couldn't 
find  the  other  one,  though  we  hunted  all  around. 


And  so,  take  it  all  around,  we  made  a  good  haul. 
When  we  was  ready  to  shove  off  we  was  a  quarter  of 
a  mile  below  the  island,  and  it  was  pretty  broad  day ; 
so  I  made  Jim  lay  down  in  the  canoe  and  cover  up 
with  the  quilt,  because  if  he  set  up  people  could  tell 
he  was  a  nigger  a  good  ways  off.  I  paddled  over  to 
the  Illinois  shore,  and  drifted  down  most  a  half  a  mile 
doing  it.  I  crept  up  the  dead  water  under  the  bank, 
and  hadn't  no  accidents  and  didn't  see  nobody.  We 
got  home  all  safe. 


CHAPTER  X 

AFTER  breakfast  I  wanted  to  talk  about  the  dead 
man  and  guess  out  how  he  come  to  be  killed,  but 
Jim  didn't  want  to.  He  said  it  would  fetch  bad  luck ; 
and  besides,  he  said,  he  might  come  and  ha'nt  us ;  he 
said  a  man  that  warn't  buried  was  more  likely  to  go 
a-ha'nting  around  than  one  that  was  planted  and  com 
fortable.  That  sounded  pretty  reasonable,  so  I  didn't 
say  no  more  ;  but  I  couldn't  keep  from  studying  over 
it  and  wishing  I  knowed  who  shot  the  man,  and  what 
they  done  it  for. 

We  rummaged  the  clothes  we'd  got,  and  found 
eight  dollars  in  silver  sewed  up  in  the  lining  of  an 
old  blanket  overcoat.  Jim  said  he  reckoned  the  peo 
ple  in  that  house  stole  the  coat,  because  if  they'd  a 
knowed  the  money  was  there  they  wouldn't  a  left  it. 
I  said  I  reckoned  they  killed  him,  too  ;  but  Jim  didn't 
want  to  talk  about  that.  I  says : 

"  Now  you  think  it's  bad  luck  ;  but  what  did  you 
say  when  I  fetched  in  the  snake-skin  that  I  found  on 
the  top  of  the  ridge  day  before  yesterday  ?  You  said 
it  was  the  worst  bad  luck  in  the  world  to  touch  a 
snake -skin  with  my  hands.  Well,  here's  your  bad 
luck  1  We've  raked  in  all  this  truck  and  eight  dollars 
besides.  I  wish  we  could  have  some  bad  luck  like 
this  every  day,  Jim." 

"  Never  you  mind,  honey,  never  you  mind.     Don't 


yi 

you  git  too  peart.  It's  a-comin'.  Mind  I  tell  you, 
it's  a-comin'." 

It  did  come,  too.  It  was  a  Tuesday  that  we  had 
that  talk.  Well,  after  dinner  Friday  we  was  laying 
around  in  the  grass  at  the  upper  end  of  the  ridge,  and 
got  out  of  tobacco.  I  went  to  the  cavern  to  get  some, 
and  found  a  rattlesnake  in  there.  I  killed  him,  and 
curled  him  up  on  the  foot  of  Jim's  blanket,  ever 
so  natural,  thinking  there'd  be  some  fun  when  Jim 
found  him  there.  Well,  by  night  I  forgot  all  about 
the  snake,  and  when  Jim  flung  himself  down  on  the 
blanket  while  I  struck  a  light  the  snake's  mate  was 
there,  and  bit  him. 

He  jumped  up  yelling,  and  the  first  thing  the  light 
showed  was  the  varmint  curled  up  and  ready  for  an 
other  spring.  I  laid  him  out  in  a  second  with  a  stick, 
and  Jim  grabbed  pap's  whiskey-jug  and  begun  to  pour 
it  down. 

He  was  barefooted,  and  the  snake  bit  him  right  on 
the  heel.  That  all  comes  of  my  being  such  a  fool  as 
to  not  remember  that  wherever  you  leave  a  dead 
snake  its  mate  always  comes  there  and  curls  around 
it.  Jim  told  me  to  chop  off  the  snake's  head  and 
throw  it  away,  and  then  skin  the  body  and  roast  a 
piece  of  it.  I  done  it,  and  he  eat  it  and  said  it  would 
help  cure  him.  He  made  me  take  off  the  rattles  and 
tie  them  around  his  wrist,  too.  He  said  that  that 
would  help.  Then  I  slid  out  quiet  and  throwed  the 
snakes  clear  away  amongst  the  bushes ;  for  I  warn't 
going  to  let  Jim  find  out  it  was  all  my  fault,  not  if  I 
could  help  it. 

Jim  sucked  and  sucked  at  the  jug,  and  now  and 
then  he  got  out  of  his  head  and  pitched  around  and 


72 

yelled  ;  but  every  time  he  come  to  himself  he  went  to 
sucking  at  the  jug  again.  His  foot  swelled  up  pretty 
big,  and  so  did  his  leg ;  but  by-and-by  the  drunk  be 
gun  to  come,  and  so  I  judged  he  was  all  right ;  but  I'd 
druther  been  bit  with  a  snake  than  pap's  whiskey. 

Jim  was  laid  up  for  four  days  and  nights.  Then 
the  swelling  was  all  gone  and  he  was  around  again.  I 
made  up  my  mind  I  wouldn't  ever  take  a-holt  of  a 
snake-skin  again  with  my  hands,  now  that  I  see  what 
had  come  of  it.  Jim  said  he  reckoned  I  would  be 
lieve  him  next  time.  And  he  said  that  handling  a 
snake-skin  was  such  awful  bad  luck  that  maybe  we 
hadn't  got  to  the  end  of  it  yet.  He  said  he  druther 
see  the  new  moon  over  his  left  shoulder  as  much  as  a 
thousand  times  than  take  up  a  snake-skin  in  his  hand. 
Well,  I  was  getting  to  feel  that  way  myself,  though 
I've  always  reckoned  that  looking  at  the  new  moon 
over  your  left  shoulder  is  one  of  the  carelessest  and 
foolishest  things  a  body  can  do.  Old  Hank  Bunker 
done  it  once,  and  bragged  about  it ;  and  in  less  than 
two  years  he  got  drunk  and  fell  off  of  the  shot-tower, 
and  spread  himself  out  so  that  he  was  just  a  kind  of  a 
layer,  as  you  may  say ;  and  they  slid  him  edgeways 
between  two  barn  doors  for  a  coffin,  and  buried  him 
so,  so  they  say,  but  I  didn't  see  it.  Pap  told  me. 
But  anyway  it  all  come  of  looking  at  the  moon  that 
way,  like  a  fool. 

Well,  the  days  went  along,  and  the  river  went  down 
between  its  banks  again  ;  and  about  the  first  thing  we 
done  was  to  bait  one  of  the  big  hooks  with  a  skinned 
rabbit  and  set  it  and  catch  a  catfish  that  was  as  big 
as  a  man,  being  six  foot  two  inches  long,  and  weighed 
over  two  hundred  pounds.  We  couldn't  handle  him, 


73 

of  course ;  he  would  a  flung  us  into  Illinois.  We  just 
set  there  and  watched  him  rip  and  tear  around  till  he 
drownded.  We  found  a  brass  button  in  his  stomach 
and  a  round  ball,  and  lots  of  rubbage.  We  split  the 
ball  open  with  the  hatchet,  and  there  was  a  spool  in  it. 
Jim  said  he'd  had  it  there  a  long  time,  to  coat  it  over 
so  and  make  a  ball  of  it.  It  was  as  big  a  fish  as  was 
ever  catched  in  the  Mississippi,  I  reckon.  Jim  said 
he  hadn't  ever  seen  a  bigger  one.  He  would  a  been 
worth  a  good  deal  over  at  the  village.  They  peddle 
out  such  a  fish  as  that  by  the  pound  in  the  market- 
house  there  ;  everybody  buys  some  of  him  ;  his  meat's 
as  white  as  snow  and  makes  a  good  fry. 

Next  morning  I  said  it  was  getting  slow  and  dull, 
and  I  wanted  to  get  a  stirring  up  some  way.  I  said 
I  reckoned  I  would  slip  over  the  river  and  find  out 
what  was  going  on.  Jim  liked  that  notion;  but  he 
said  I  must  go  in  the  dark  and  look  sharp.  Then 
he  studied  it  over  and  said,  couldn't  I  put  on  some 
of  them  old  things  and  dress  up  like  a  girl?  That 
was  a  good  notion,  too.  So  we  shortened  up  one  of 
the  calico  gowns,  and  I  turned  up  my  trouser-legs  to 
my  knees  and  got  into  it.  Jim  hitched  it  behind  with 
the  hooks,  and  it  was  a  fair  fit.  I  put  on  the  sun- 
bonnet  and  tied  it  under  my  chin,  and  then  for  a 
body  to  look  in  and  see  my  face  was  like  looking  down 
a  joint  of  stove-pipe.  Jim  said  nobody  would  know 
me,  even  in  the  daytime,  hardly.  I  practised  around 
all  day  to  get  the  hang  of  the  things,  and  by-and-by  I 
could  do  pretty  well  in  them,  only  Jim  said  I  didn't 
walk  like  a  girl ;  and  he  said  I  must  quit  pulling  up 
my  gown  to  get  at  my  britches-pocket.  I  took  notice, 
and  done  better. 


74 

I  started  up  the  Illinois  shore  in  the  canoe  just 
after  dark. 

I  started  across  to  the  town  from  a  little  below  the 
ferry-landing,  and  the  drift  of  the  current  fetched  me 
in  at  the  bottom  of  the  town.  I  tied  up  and  started 
along  the  bank.  There  was  a  light  burning  in  a  lit 
tle  shanty  that  hadn't  been  lived  in  for  a  long  time, 
and  I  wondered  who  had  took  up  quarters  there.  I 
slipped  up  and  peeped  in  at  the  window.  There  was 
a  woman  about  forty  year  old  in  there  knitting  by  a 
candle  that  was  on  a  pine  table.  I  didn't  know  her 
face ;  she  was  a  stranger,  for  you  couldn't  start  a  face 
in  that  town  that  I  didn't  know.  Now  this  was  lucky, 
because  I  was  weakening ;  I  was  getting  afraid  I  had 
come ;  people  might  know  my  voice  and  find  me  out. 
But  if  this  woman  had  been  in  such  a  little  town  two 
days  she  could  tell  me  all  I  wanted  to  know ;  so  I 
knocked  at  the  door,  and  made  up  my  mind  I  wouldn't 
forget  I  was  a  girl. 


CHAPTER  XI 

"  COME  in,"  says  the  woman,  and  I  did.  She  says : 
"  Take  a  cheer." 

I  done  it.  She  looked  me  all  over  with  her  little 
shiny  eyes,  and  says : 

"  What  might  your  name  be?" 

"  Sarah  Williams." 

"  Where  'bouts  do  you  live  ?  In  this  neighbor 
hood?" 

"  No'm.  In  Hookerville,  seven  mile  below.  I've 
walked  all  the  way  and  I'm  all  tired  out." 

"  Hungry,  too,  I  reckon.     I'll  find  you  something." 

"  No'm,  I  ain't  hungry.  I  was  so  hungry  I  had  to 
stop  two  miles  below  here  at  a  farm  ;  so  I  ain't  hungry 
no  more.  It's  what  makes  me  so  late.  My  mother's 
down  sick,  and  out  of  money  and  everything,  and  I 
come  to  tell  my  uncle  Abner  Moore.  He  lives  at 
the  upper  end  of  the  town,  she  says.  I  hain't  ever 
been  here  before.  Do  you  know  him  ?" 

"  No  ;  but  I  don't  know  everybody  yet.  I  haven't 
lived  here  quite  two  weeks.  It's  a  considerable  ways 
to  the  upper  end  of  the  town.  You  better  stay  here 
all  night.  Take  off  your  bonnet." 

"No,"  I  says;  "  I'll  rest  a  while,  I  reckon,  and  go 
on.  I  ain't  afeared  of  the  dark." 

She  said  she  wouldn't  let  me  go  by  myself,  but  her 
husband  would  be  in  by-and-by,  maybe  in  a  hour  and 


76 

a  half,  and  she'd  send  him  along  with  me.  Then  she 
got  to  talking  about  her  husband,  and  about  her  re 
lations  up  the  river,  and  her  relations  down  the  river, 
and  about  how  much  better  off  they  used  to  was,  and 
how  they  didn't  know  but  they'd  made  a  mistake 
coming  to  our  town,  instead  of  letting  well  alone — 
and  so  on  and  so  on,  till  I  was  afeard  7  had  made  a 
mistake  coming  to  her  to  find  out  what  was  going  on 
in  the  town ;  but  by-and-by  she  dropped  on  to  pap  and 
the  murder,  and  then  I  was  pretty  willing  to  let  her 
clatter  right  along.  She  told  about  me  and  Tom 
Sawyer  finding  the  six  thousand  dollars  (only  she  got 
it  ten)  and  all  about  pap  and  what  a  hard  lot  he 
was,  and  what  a  hard  lot  I  was,  and  at  last  she  got 
down  to  where  I  was  murdered.  I  says: 

"  Who  done  it  ?  We've  heard  considerable  about 
these  goings  on  down  in  Hookerville,  but  we  don't 
know  who  'twas  that  killed  Huck  Finn." 

"Well,  I  reckon  there's  a  right  smart  chance  of 
people  here  that  'd  like  to  know  who  killed  him. 
Some  think  old  Finn  done  it  himself." 

"  No — is  that  so  ?" 

"  Most  everybody  thought  it  at  first.  He'll  never 
know  how  nigh  he  come  to  getting  lynched.  But 
before  night  they  changed  around  and  judged  it  was 
done  by  a  runaway  nigger  named  Jim." 

"  Why,  he— " 

I  stopped.  I  reckoned  I  better  keep  still.  She  run 
on,  and  never  noticed  I  had  put  in  at  all : 

"The  nigger  run  off  the  very  night  Huck  Finn  was 
killed.  So  there's  a  reward  out  for  him — three  hun 
dred  dollars.  And  there's  a  reward  out  for  old  Finn, 
too — two  hundred  dollars.  You  see,  he  come  to  town 


77 

the  morning  after  the  murder,  and  told  about  it,  and 
was  out  with  'em  on  the  ferry-boat  hunt,  and  right 
away  after  he  up  and  left.  Before  night  they  wanted 
to  lynch  him,  but  he  was  gone,  you  see.  Well,  next 
day  they  found  out  the  nigger  was  gone ;  they  found 
out  he  hadn't  ben  seen  sence  ten  o'clock  the  night 
the  murder  was  done.  So  then  they  put  it  on  him, 
you  see ;  and  while  they  was  full  of  it,  next  day, 
back  comes  old  Finn,  and  went  boo-hooing  to  Judge 
Thatcher  to  get  money  to  hunt  for  the  nigger  all 
over  Illinois  with.  The  judge  give  him  some,  and  that 
evening  he  got  drunk,  and  was  around  till  after  mid 
night  with  a  couple  of  mighty  hard-looking  strangers, 
and  then  went  off  with  them.  Well,  he  hain't  come 
back  sence,  and  they  ain't  looking  for  him  back  till 
this  thing  blows  over  a  little,  for  people  thinks  now 
that  he  killed  his  boy  and  fixed  things  so  folks  would 
think  robbers  done  it,  and  then  he'd  get  Huck's 
money  without  having  to  bother  a  long  time  with  a 
lawsuit.  People  do  say  he  warn't  any  too  good  to  do 
it.  Oh,  he's  sly,  I  reckon.  If  he  don't  come  back 
for  a  year  he'll  be  all  right.  You  can't  prove  any 
thing  on  him,  you  know ;  everything  will  be  quieted 
down  then,  and  he'll  walk  in  Huck's  money  as  easy  as 
nothing." 

"  Yes,  I  reckon  so,  'm.  I  don't  see  nothing  in  the 
way  of  it.  Has  everybody  quit  thinking  the  nigger 
done  it?" 

"  Oh  no,  not  everybody.  A  good  many  thinks  he 
done  it.  But  they'll  get  the  nigger  pretty  soon  now, 
and  maybe  they  can  scare  it  out  of  him." 

"  Why,  are  they  after  him  yet  ?" 

"  Well,  you're  innocent,  ain't  you  1    Does  three  hun- 


78 

dred  dollars  lay  round  every  day  for  people  to  pick 
up  ?  Some  folks  thinks  the  nigger  ain't  far  from  here. 
I'm  one  of  them — but  I  hain't  talked  it  around.  A 
few  days  ago  I  was  talking  with  an  old  couple  that 
lives  next  door  in  the  log  shanty,  and  they  happened 
to  say  hardly  anybody  ever  goes  to  that  island  over 
yonder  that  they  call  Jackson's  Island.  Don't  any 
body  live  there?  says  I.  No,  nobody,  says  they.  I 
didn't  say  any  more,  but  I  done  some  thinking.  I 
was  pretty  near  certain  I'd  seen  smoke  over  there, 
about  the  head  of  the  island,  a  day  or  two  before 
that,  so  I  says  to  myself,  like  as  not  that  nigger's  hid 
ing  over  there;  anyway,  says  I,  it's  worth  the  trouble 
to  give  the  place  a  hunt.  I  hain't  seen  any  smoke 
sence,  so  I  reckon  maybe  he's  gone,  if  it  was  him  ; 
but  husband's  going  over  to  see  —  him  and  another 
man.  He  was  gone  up  the  river;  but  he  got  back 
to-day,  and  I  told  him  as  soon  as  he  got  here  two 
hours  ago." 

I  had  got  so  uneasy  I  couldn't  set  still.  I  had  to 
do  something  with  my  hands ;  so  I  took  up  a  needle 
off  of  the  table  and  went  to  threading  it.  My  hands 
shook,  and  I  was  making  a  bad  job  of  it.  When  the 
woman  stopped  talking  I  looked  up,  and  she  was  look 
ing  at  me  pretty  curious  and  smiling  a  little.  I  put 
down  the  needle  and  thread,  and  let  on  to  be  interest 
ed — and  I  was,  too — and  says : 

"Three  hundred  dollars  is  a  power  of  money.  I 
wish  my  mother  could  get  it.  Is  your  husband  going 
over  there  to-night?" 

"  Oh  yes.  He  went  up-town  with  the  man  I  was 
telling  you  of,  to  get  a  boat  and  see  if  they  could  bor 
row  another  gun.  They'll  go  over  after  midnight." 


79 

"  Couldn't  they  see  better  if  they  was  to  wait  till 
daytime?" 

"Yes.  And  couldn't  the  nigger  see  better,  too? 
After  midnight  he'll  likely  be  asleep,  and  they  can 
slip  around  through  the  woods  and  hunt  up  his  camp 
fire  all  the  better  for  the  dark,  if  he's  got  one." 

"  I  didn't  think  of  that." 

The  woman  kept  looking  at  me  pretty  curious,  and 
I  didn't  feel  a  bit  comfortable.  Pretty  soon  she  says : 

"  What  did  you  say  your  name  was,  honey  ?" 

"  M — Mary  Williams." 

Somehow  it  didn't  seem  to  me  that  I  said  it  was 
Mary  before,  so  I  didn't  look  up  —  seemed  to  me  I 
said  it  was  Sarah ;  so  I  felt  sort  of  cornered,  and  was 
afeared  maybe  I  was  looking  it,  too.  I  wished  the 
woman  would  say  something  more  ;  the  longer  she 
set  still  the  uneasier  I  was.  But  now  she  says : 

"  Honey,  I  thought  you  said  it  was  Sarah  when  you 
first  come  in?" 

"  Oh,  yes'm,  I  did.  Sarah  Mary  Williams.  Sarah's 
my  first  name.  Some  calls  me  Sarah,  some  calls  me 
Mary." 

"  Oh,  that's  the  way  of  it  ?" 

"Yes'm." 

I  was  feeling  better  then,  but  I  wished  I  was  out 
of  there,  anyway.  I  couldn't  look  up  yet. 

Well,  the  woman  fell  to  talking  about  how  hard 
times  was,  and  how  poor  they  had  to  live,  and  how 
the  rats  was  as  free  as  if  they  owned  the  place,  and  so 
forth,  and  so  on,  and  then  I  got  easy  again.  She  was 
right  about  the  rats.  You'd  see  one  stick  his  nose 
out  of  a  hole  in  the  corner  every  little  while.  She 
said  she  had  to  have  things  handy  to  throw  at  them 


8o 


when  she  was  alone,  or  they  wouldn't  give  her  no 
peace.  She  showed  me  a  bar  of  lead  twisted  up  into 
a  knot,  and  said  she  was  a  good  shot  with  it  generly, 
but  she'd  wrenched  her  arm  a  day  or  two  ago,  and 
didn't  know  whether  she  could  throw  true  now.  But 
she  watched  for  a  chance,  and  directly  banged  away  at 
a  rat ;  but  she  missed  him  wide,  and  said  "  Ouch  !"  it 
hurt  her  arm  so.  Then  she  told  me  to  try  for  the 
next  one.  I  wanted  to  be  getting  away  before  the 
old  man  got  back,  but  of  course  I  didn't  let  on.  I 
got  the  thing,  and  the  first  rat  that  showed  his  nose  I 
let  drive,  and  if  he'd  a  stayed  where  he  was  he'd  a 
been  a  tolerable  sick  rat.  She  said  that  was  first-rate, 
and  she  reckoned  I  would  hive  the  next  one.  She 
went  and  got  the  lump  of  lead  and  fetched  it  back, 
and  brought  along  a  hank  of  yarn  which  she  wanted 
me  to  help  her  with.  I  held  up  my  two  hands  and 
she  put  the  hank  over  them,  and  went  on  talking 
about  her  and  her  husband's  matters.  But  she  broke 
off  to  say : 

"  Keep  your  eye  on  the  rats.  You  better  have  the 
lead  in  your  lap,  handy." 

So  she  dropped  the  lump  into  my  lap  just  at  that 
moment,  and  I  clapped  my  legs  together  on  it  and 
she  went  on  talking.  But  only  about  a  minute. 
Then  she  took  off  the  hank  and  looked  me  straight 
in  the  face,  and  very  pleasant,  and  says : 

"  Come,  now,  what's  your  real  name  ?" 

"  Wh-what,  mum  ?" 

"What's  your  real  name?  Is  it  Bill,  or  Tom,  or 
Bob  ? — or  what  is  it  ?" 

I  reckon  I  shook  like  a  leaf,  and  I  didn't  know  hard 
ly  what  to  do.  But  I  says : 


8i 


"  Please  to  don't  poke  fun  at  a  poor  girl  like  me, 
mum.  If  I'm  in  the  way  here,  I'll — " 

"  No,  you  won't.  Set  down  and  stay  where  you 
are.  I  ain't  going  to  hurt  you,  and  I  ain't  going  to 
tell  on  you,  nuther.  You  just  tell  me  your  secret,  and 
trust  me.  I'll  keep  it ;  and,  what's  more,  I'll  help  you. 
So'll  my  old  man  if  you  want  him  to.  You  see, 
you're  a  runaway  'prentice,  that's  all.  It  ain't  any 
thing.  There  ain't  no  harm  in  it.  You've  been 
treated  bad,  and  you  made  up  your  mind  to  cut. 
Bless  you,  child,  I  wouldn't  tell  on  you.  Tell  me  all 
about  it  now,  that's  a  good  boy." 

So  I  said  it  wouldn't  be  no  use  to  try  to  play  it  any 
longer,  and  I  would  just  make  a  clean  breast  and  tell 
her  everything,  but  she  mustn't  go  back  on  her  prom 
ise.  Then  I  told  her  my  father  and  mother  was  dead, 
and  the  law  had  bound  me  out  to  a  mean  old  farmer 
in  the  country  thirty  mile  back  from  the  river,  and 
he  treated  me  so  bad  I  couldn't  stand  it  no  longer; 
he  went  away  to  be  gone  a  couple  of  days,  and  so  I 
took  my  chance  and  stole  some  of  his  daughter's  old 
clothes  and  cleared  out,  and  I  had  been  three  nights 
coming  the  thirty  miles.  I  travelled  nights,  and  hid 
daytimes  and  slept,  and  the  bag  of  bread  and  meat  I 
carried  from  home  lasted  me  all  the  way,  and  I  had 
a-plenty.  I  said  I  believed  my  uncle  Abner  Moore 
would  take  care  of  me,  and  so  that  was  why  I  struck 
out  for  this  town  of  Goshen. 

"  Goshen,  child  ?  This  ain't  Goshen.  This  is  St. 
Petersburg.  Goshen's  ten  mile  further  up  the  river. 
Who  told  you  this  was  Goshen  ?" 

"  Why,  a  man  I  met  at  daybreak  this  morning,  just 
as  I  was  going  to  turn  into  the  woods  for  my  regular 

6  HP 


82 


sleep.  He  told  me  when  the  roads  forked  I  must 
take  the  right  hand,  and  five  mile  would  fetch  me 
to  Goshen." 

"  He  was  drunk,  I  reckon.  He  told  you  just  exactly 
wrong." 

"  Well,  he  did  act  like  he  was  drunk,  but  it  ain't  no 
matter  now.  I  got  to  be  moving  along.  I'll  fetch 
Goshen  before  daylight." 

"  Hold  on  a  minute.  I'll  put  you  up  a  snack  to 
eat.  You  might  want  it." 

So  she  put  me  up  a  snack,  and  says : 

"  Say,  when  a  cow's  laying  down,  which  end  of  her 
gets  up  first  ?  Answer  up  prompt  now — don't  stop  to 
study  over  it.  Which  end  gets  up  first  ?" 

"  The  hind  end,  mum." 

"  Well,  then,  a  horse  ?" 

"  The  for'rard  end,  mum." 

"  Which  side  of  a  tree  does  the  moss  grow  on  ?" 

"  North  side." 

"If  fifteen  cows  is  browsing  on  a  hill-side,  how 
many  of  them  eats  with  their  heads  pointed  the  same 
direction  ?" 

"  The  whole  fifteen,  mum." 

"  Well,  I  reckon  you  have  lived  in  the  country.  I 
thought  maybe  you  was  trying  to  hocus  me  again. 
What's  your  real  name,  now?" 

"  George  Peters,  mum." 

"  Well,  try  to  remember  it,  George.  Don't  forget 
and  tell  me  it's  Elexander  before  you  go,  and  then 
get  out  by  saying  it's  George  Elexander  when  I  catch 
you.  And  don't  go  about  women  in  that  old  calico. 
You  do  a  girl  tolerable  poor,  but  you  might  fool 
men,  maybe.  Bless  you,  child,  when  you  set  out  to 


83 

thread  a  needle  don't  hold  the  thread  still  and  fetch 
the  needle  up  to  it ;  hold  the  needle  still  and  poke 
the  thread  at  it ;  that's  the  way  a  woman  most  al 
ways  does,  but  a  man  always  does  t'other  way.  And 
when  you  throw  at  a  rat  or  anything,  hitch  yourself 
up  a  tip-toe  and  fetch  your  hand  up  over  your  head 
as  awkward  as  you  can,  and  miss  your  rat  about  six 
or  seven  foot.  Throw  stiff-armed  from  the  shoulder, 
like  there  was  a  pivot  there  for  it  to  turn  on,  like  a 
girl ;  not  from  the  wrist  and  elbow,  with  your  arm 
out  to  one  side,  like  a  boy.  And,  mind  you,  when  a 
girl  tries  to  catch  anything  in  her  lap  she  throws  her 
knees  apart ;  she  don't  clap  them  together,  the  way 
you  did  when  you  catched  the  lump  of  lead.  Why,  I 
spotted  you  for  a  boy  when  you  was  threading  the 
needle ;  and  I  contrived  the  other  things  just  to  make 
certain.  Now  trot  along  to  your  uncle,  Sarah  Mary 
Williams  George  Elexander  Peters,  and  if  you  get  into 
trouble  you  send  word  to  Mrs.  Judith  Loftus,  which 
is  me,  and  I'll  do  what  I  can  to  get  you  out  of  it. 
Keep  the  river  road  all  the  way,  and  next  time  you 
tramp  take  shoes  and  socks  with  you.  The  river 
road's  a  rocky  one,  and  your  feet  '11  be  in  a  condi 
tion  when  you  get  to  Goshen,  I  reckon." 

I  went  up  the  bank  about  fifty  yards,  and  then  I 
doubled  on  my  tracks  and  slipped  back  to  where  my 
canoe  was,  a  good  piece  below  the  house.  I  jumped 
in,  and  was  off  in  a  hurry.  I  went  up  -  stream  far 
enough  to  make  the  head  of  the  island,  and  then 
started  across.  I  took  off  the  sun-bonnet,  for  I  didn't 
want  no  blinders  on  then.  When  I  was  about  the 
middle  I  heard  the  clock  begin  to  strike,  so  I  stops 
and  listens ;  the  sound  come  faint  over  the  water  but 


clear — eleven.  When  I  struck  the  head  of  the  island  I 
never  waited  to  blow,  though  I  was  most  winded,  but 
I  shoved  right  into  the  timber  where  my  old  camp 
used  to  be,  and  started  a  good  fire  there  on  a  high 
and  dry  spot. 

Then  I  jumped  in  the  canoe  and  dug  out  for  our 
place,  a  mile  and  a  half  below,  as  hard  as  I  could  go. 
I  landed,  and  slopped  through  the  timber  and  up  the 
ridge  and  into  the  cavern.  There  Jim  laid,  sound 
asleep  on  the  ground.  I  roused  him  out  and  says : 

"  Git  up  and  hump  yourself,  Jim  !  There  ain't  a 
minute  to  lose.  They're  after  us  !" 

Jim  never  asked  no  questions,  he  never  said  a  word  ; 
but  the  way  he  worked  for  the  next  half  an  hour 
showed  about  how  he  was  scared.  By  that  time 
everything  we  had  in  the  world  was  on  our  raft,  and 
she  was  ready  to  be  shoved  out  from  the  willow  cove 
where  she  was  hid.  We  put  out  the  camp  fire  at  the 
cavern  the  first  thing,  and  didn't  show  a  candle  outside 
after  that. 

I  took  the  canoe  out  from  shore  a  little  piece,  and 
took  a  look ;  but  if  there  was  a  boat  around  I  couldn't 
see  it,  for  stars  and  shadows  ain't  good  to  see  by. 
Then  we  got  out  the  raft  and  slipped  along  down  in 
the  shade,  past  the  foot  of  the  island  dead  still — never 
saying  a  word. 


CHAPTER  XII 

IT  must  a  been  close  on  to  one  o'clock  when  we  got 
below  the  island  at  last,  and  the  raft  did  seem  to  go 
mighty  slow.  If  a  boat  was  to  come  along  we  was 
going  to  take  to  the  canoe  and  break  for  the  Illinois 
shore ;  and  it  was  well  a  boat  didn't  come,  for  we 
hadn't  ever  thought  to  put  the  gun  in  the  canoe,  or  a 
fishing-line,  or  anything  to  eat.  We  was  in  ruther  too 
much  of  a  sweat  to  think  of  so  many  things.  It 
warn't  good  judgment  to  put  everything  on  the  raft. 

If  the  men  went  to  the  island  I  just  expect  they 
found  the  camp  fire  I  built,  and  watched  it  all  night 
for  Jim  to  come.  Anyways,  they  stayed  away  from 
us,  and  if  my  building  the  fire  never  fooled  them  it 
warn't  no  fault  of  mine.  I  played  it  as  low  down  on 
them  as  I  could. 

When  the  first  streak  of  day  began  to  show  we 
tied  up  to  a  tow-head  in  a  big  bend  on  the  Illinois 
side,  and  hacked  off  cotton-wood  branches  with  the 
hatchet,  and  covered  up  the  raft  with  them  so  she 
looked  like  there  had  been  a  cave-in  in  the  bank  there. 
A  tow-head  is  a  sand-bar  that  has  cotton-woods  on  it 
as  thick  as  harrow-teeth. 

We  had  mountains  on  the  Missouri  shore  and  heavy 
timber  on  the  Illinois  side,  and  the  channel  was  down 
the  Missouri  shore  at  that  place,  so  we  warn't  afraid 
of  anybody  running  across  us.  We  laid  there  all  day, 


86 


and  watched  the  rafts  and  steamboats  spin  down  the 
Missouri  shore,  and  up -bound  steamboats  fight  the 
big  river  in  the  middle.  I  told  Jim  all  about  the 
time  I  had  jabbering  with  that  woman ;  and  Jim  said 
she  was  a  smart  one,  and  if  she  was  to  start  after  us 
herself  she  wouldn't  set  down  and  watch  a  camp  fire — 
no,  sir,  she'd  fetch  a  dog.  Well,  then,  I  said,  why 
couldn't  she  tell  her  husband  to  fetch  a  dog?  Jim 
said  he  bet  she  did  think  of  it  by  the  time  the  men 
was  ready  to  start,  and  he  believed  they  must  a  gone 
up-town  to  get  a  dog  and  so  they  lost  all  that  time, 
or  else  we  wouldn't  be  here  on  a  tow-head  sixteen  or 
seventeen  mile  below  the  village  —  no,  indeedy,  we 
would  be  in  that  same  old  town  again.  So  I  said  I 
didn't  care  what  was  the  reason  they  didn't  get  us  as 
long  as  they  didn't. 

When  it  was  beginning  to  come  on  dark  we  poked 
our  heads  out  of  the  cotton-wood  thicket,  and  looked 
up  and  down  and  across ;  nothing  in  sight ;  so  Jim 
took  up  some  of  the  top  planks  of  the  raft  and  built 
a  snug  wigwam  to  get  under  in  blazing  weather  and 
rainy,  and  to  keep  the  things  dry.  Jim  made  a  floor 
for  the  wigwam,  and  raised  it  a  foot  or  more  above 
the  level  of  the  raft,  so  now  the  blankets  and  all  the 
traps  was  out  of  reach  of  steamboat  waves.  Right  in 
the  middle  of  the  wigwam  we  made  a  layer  of  dirt 
about  five  or  six  inches  deep  with  a  frame  around  it 
for  to  hold  it  to  its  place  ;  this  was  to  build  a  fire  on 
in  sloppy  weather  or  chilly  ;  the  wigwam  would  keep 
it  from  being  seen.  We  made  an  extra  steering-oar, 
too,  because  one  of  the  others  might  get  broke  on  a 
snag  or  something.  We  fixed  up  a  short  forked 
stick  to  hang  the  old  lantern  on,  because  we  must 


always  light  the  lantern  whenever  we  see  a  steamboat 
coming  down-stream,  to  keep  from  getting  run  over; 
but  we  wouldn't  have  to  light  it  for  up-stream  boats 
unless  we  see  we  was  in  what  they  call  a  "  crossing;" 
for  the  river  was  pretty  high  yet,  very  low  banks  being 
still  a  little  under  water;  so  up -bound  boats  didn't 
always  run  the  channel,  but  hunted  easy  water. 

This  second  night  we  run  between  seven  and  eight 
hours,  with  a  current  that  was  making  over  four  mile 
an  hour.  We  catched  fish  and  talked,  and  we  took  a 
swim  now  and  then  to  keep  off  sleepiness.  It  was 
kind  of  solemn,  drifting  down  the  big,  still  river,  laying 
on  our  backs  looking  up  at  the  stars,  and  we  didn't 
ever  feel  like  talking  loud,  and  it  warn't  often  that  we 
laughed — only  a  little  kind  of  a  low  chuckle.  We  had 
mighty  good  weather  as  a  general  thing,  and  nothing 
ever  happened  to  us  at  all — that  night,  nor  the  next, 
nor  the  next. 

Every  night  we  passed  towns,  some  of  them  away 
up  on  black  hill-sides,  nothing  but  just  a  shiny  bed  of 
lights ;  not  a  house  could  you  see.  The  fifth  night  we 
passed  St.  Louis,  and  it  was  like  the  whole  world  lit 
up.  In  St.  Petersburg  they  used  to  say  there  was 
twenty  or  thirty  thousand  people  in  St.  Louis,  but  I 
never  believed  it  till  I  see  that  wonderful  spread  of 
lights  at  two  o'clock  that  still  night.  There  warn't 
a  sound  there  ;  everybody  was  asleep. 

Every  night  now  I  used  to  slip  ashore  towards 
ten  o'clock  at  some  little  village,  and  buy  ten  or 
fifteen  cents'  worth  of  meal  or  bacon  or  other  stuff  to 
eat ;  and  sometimes  I  lifted  a  chicken  that  warn't 
roosting  comfortable,  and  took  him  along.  Pap  al 
ways  said,  take  a  chicken  when  you  get  a  chance, 


88 


because  if  you  don't  want  him  yourself  you  can  easy 
find  somebody  that  does,  and  a  good  deed  ain't  ever 
forgot.  I  never  see  pap  when  he  didn't  want  the 
chicken  himself,  but  that  is  what  he  used  to  say,  any 
way. 

Mornings  before  daylight  I  slipped  into  cornfields 
and  borrowed  a  watermelon,  or  a  mushmelon,  or  a 
punkin,  or  some  new  corn,  or  things  of  that  kind. 
Pap  always  said  it  warn't  no  harm  to  borrow  things  if 
you  was  meaning  to  pay  them  back  some  time  ;  but 
the  widow  said  it  warn't  anything  but  a  soft  name  for 
stealing,  and  no  decent  body  would  do  it.  Jim  said 
he  reckoned  the  widow  was  partly  right  and  pap  was 
partly  right ;  so  the  best  way  would  be  for  us  to  pick 
out  two  or  three  things  from  the  list  and  say  we 
wouldn't  borrow  them  any  more — then  he  reckoned 
it  wouldn't  be  no  harm  to  borrow  the  others.  So  we 
talked  it  over  all  one  night,  drifting  along  down  the 
river,  trying  to  make  up  our  minds  whether  to  drop 
the  watermelons,  or  the  cantelopes,  or  the  mushmelons, 
or  what.  But  towards  daylight  we  got  it  all  settled 
satisfactory,  and  concluded  to  drop  crab-apples  and 
p'simmons.  We  warn't  feeling  just  right  before  that, 
but  it  was  all  comfortable  now.  I  was  glad  the  way 
it  come  out,  too,  because  crab-apples  ain't  ever  good, 
and  the  p'simmons  wouldn't  be  ripe  for  two  or  three 
months  yet. 

We  shot  a  water-fowl  now  and  then  that  got  up  too 
early  in  the  morning  or  didn't  go  to  bed  early  enough 
in  the  evening.  Take  it  all  round,  we  lived  pretty 
high. 

The  fifth  night  below  St.  Louis  we  had  a  big  storm 
after  midnight,  with  a  power  of  thunder  and  lightning, 


89 

and  the  rain  poured  down  in  a  solid  sheet.  We  stayed 
in  the  wigwam  and  let  the  raft  take  care  of  itself. 
When  the  lightning  glared  out  we  could  see  a  big 
straight  river  ahead,  and  high,  rocky  bluffs  on  both 
sides.  By-and-by  says  I,  "  Hel-/<?,  Jim,  looky  yonder  J" 
It  was  a  steamboat  that  had  killed  herself  on  a  rock. 
We  was  drifting  straight  down  for  her.  The  lightning 
showed  her  very  distinct.  She  was  leaning  over,  with 
part  of  her  upper  deck  above  water,  and  you  could  see 
every  little  chimbly-guy  clean  and  clear,  and  a  chair 
by  the  big  bell,  with  an  old  slouch  hat  hanging  on  the 
back  of  it  when  the  flashes  come. 

Well,  it  being  away  in  the  night  and  stormy,  and  all 
so  mysterious-like,  I  felt  just  the  way  any  other  boy 
would  a  felt  when  I  see  that  wreck  laying  there  so 
mournful  and  lonesome  in  the  middle  of  the  river.  I 
wanted  to  get  aboard  of  her  and  slink  around  a  little, 
and  see  what  there  was  there.  So  I  says : 

"  Le's  land  on  her,  Jim." 

But  Jim  was  dead  against  it  at  first.     He  says : 

"  I  doan'  want  to  go  fool'n  'long  er  no  wrack.  We's 
doin'  blame'  well,  en  we  better  let  blame'  well  alone,  as 
de  good  book  says.  Like  as  not  dey's  a  watchman  on 
dat  wrack." 

"  Watchman  your  grandmother,"  I  says ;  "  there 
ain't  nothing  to  watch  but  the  texas  and  the  pilot 
house  ;  and  do  you  reckon  anybody's  going  to  resk  his 
life  for  a  texas  and  a  pilot-house  such  a  night  as  this, 
when  it's  likely  to  break  up  and  wash  off  down  the 
river  any  minute?"  Jim  couldn't  say  nothing  to  that, 
so  he  didn't  try.  "  And  besides,"  I  says,  "  we  might 
borrow  something  worth  having  out  of  the  captain's 
state-room.  Seegars,  /  bet  you — and  cost  five  cents 


90 

apiece,  solid  cash.  Steamboat  captains  is  always  rich, 
and  get  sixty  dollars  a  month,  and  they  don't  care 
a  cent  what  a  thing  costs,  you  know,  long  as  they  want 
it.  Stick  a  candle  in  your  pocket;  I  can't  rest,  Jim, 
till  we  give  her  a  rummaging.  Do  you  reckon  Tom 
Sawyer  would  ever  go  by  this  thing  ?  Not  for  pie,  he 
wouldn't.  He'd  call  it  an  adventure — that's  what  he'd 
call  it ;  and  he'd  land  on  that  wreck  if  it  was  his  last 
act.  And  wouldn't  he  throw  style  into  it? — wouldn't 
he  spread  himself,  nor  nothing?  Why,  you'd  think 
it  was  Christopher  C'lumbus  discovering  Kingdom- 
Come.  I  wish  Tom  Sawyer  was  here." 

Jim  he  grumbled  a  little,  but  give  in.  He  said  we 
mustn't  talk  any  more  than  we  could  help,  and  then 
talk  mighty  low.  The  lightning  showed  us  the  wreck 
again  just  in  time,  and  we  fetched  the  starboard  der 
rick,  and  made  fast  there. 

The  deck  was  high  out  here.  We  went  sneaking 
down  the  slope  of  it  to  labboard,  in  the  dark,  towards 
the  texas,  feeling  our  way  slow  with  our  feet,  and 
spreading  our  hands  out  to  fend  off  the  guys,  for  it 
was  so  dark  we  couldn't  see  no  sign  of  them.  Pretty 
soon  we  struck  the  forward  end  of  the  skylight,  and 
clumb  on  to  it ;  and  the  next  step  fetched  us  in  front 
of  the  captain's  door,  which  was  open,  and  by  Jimminy, 
away  down  through  the  texas-hall  we  see  a  light !  and 
all  in  the  same  second  we  seem  to  hear  low  voices  in 
yonder ! 

Jim  whispered  and  said  he  was  feeling  powerful 
sick,  and  told  me  to  come  along.  I  says,  all  right,  and 
was  going  to  start  for  the  raft ;  but  just  then  I  heard 
a  voice  wail  out  and  say : 

"  Oh,  please  don't,  boys ;  I  swear  I  won't  ever  tell !" 


Another  voice  said,  pretty  loud  : 

"  It's  a  lie,  Jim  Turner.  You've  acted  this  way  be 
fore.  You  always  want  more'n  your  share  of  the  truck, 
and  you've  always  got  it,  too,  because  you've  swore  't 
if  you  didn't  you'd  tell.  But  this  time  you've  said  it 
jest  one  time  too  many.  You're  the  meanest,  treach- 
erousest  hound  in  this  country." 

By  this  time  Jim  was  gone  for  the  raft.  I  was  just 
a-biling  with  curiosity ;  and  I  says  to  myself,  Tom 
Sawyer  wouldn't  back  out  now,  and  so  I  won't  either ; 
I'm  a-going  to  see  what's  going  on  here.  So  I  dropped 
on  my  hands  and  knees  in  the  little  passage,  and  crept 
aft  in  the  dark  till  there  warn't  but  one  state-room 
betwixt  me  and  the  cross-hall  of  the  texas.  Then  in 
there  I  see  a  man  stretched  on  the  floor  and  tied  hand 
and  foot,  and  two  men  standing  over  him,  and  one  of 
them  had  a  dim  lantern  in  his  hand,  and  the  other  one 
had  a  pistol.  This  one  kept  pointing  the  pistol  at  the 
man's  head  on  the  floor,  and  saying : 

"  I'd  like  to  !     And  I  orter,  too — a  mean  skunk !" 

The  man  on  the  floor  would  shrivel  up  and  say, 
"  Oh,  please  don't,  Bill ;  I  hain't  ever  goin'  to  tell." 

And  every  time  he  said  that  the  man  with  the  lan 
tern  would  laugh  and  say : 

"  'Deed  you  ain't !  You  never  said  no  truer  thing 
'n  that,  you  bet  you."  And  once  he  said  :  "  Hear 
him  beg  !  and  yit  if  we  hadn't  got  the  best  of  him  and 
tied  him  he'd  a  killed  us  both.  And  what/0rf  Jist 
for  noth'n.  Jist  because  we  stood  on  our  rights — 
that's  what  for.  But  I  lay  you  ain't  a-goin'  to  threaten 
nobody  any  more,  Jim  Turner.  Put  up  that  pistol, 
Bill." 

Bill  says : 


92 

"I  don't  want  to,  Jake  Packard.  I'm  for  killin1 
him — and  didn't  he  kill  old  Hatfield  jist  the  same 
way — and  don't  he  deserve  it  ?" 

"  But  I  don't  want  him  killed,  and  I've  got  my  rea 
sons  for  it." 

"  Bless  yo'  heart  for  them  words,  Jake  Packard !  I'll 
never  forgit  you  long's  I  live !"  says  the  man  on  the 
floor,  sort  of  blubbering. 

Packard  didn't  take  no  notice  of  that,  but  hung  up 
his  lantern  on  a  nail  and  started  towards  where  I  was, 
there  in  the  dark,  and  motioned  Bill  to  come.  I  craw 
fished  as  fast  as  I  could  about  two  yards,  but  the  boat 
slanted  so  that  I  couldn't  make  very  good  time  ;  so 
to  keep  from  getting  run  over  and  catched  I  crawled 
into  a  state-room  on  the  upper  side.  The  man  came 
a-pawing  along  in  the  dark,  and  when  Packard  got  to 
my  state-room,  he  says: 

"  Here — come  in  here." 

And  in  he  come,  and  Bill  after  him.  But  before 
they  got  in  I  was  up  in  the  upper  berth,  cornered,  and 
sorry  I  come.  Then  they  stood  there,  with  their  hands 
on  the  ledge  of  the  berth,  and  talked.  I  couldn't 
see  them,  but  I  could  tell  where  they  was  by  the 
whiskey  they'd  been  having.  I  was  glad  I  didn't 
drink  whiskey ;  but  it  wouldn't  made  much  difference 
anyway,  because  most  of  the  time  they  couldn't  a 
treed  me  because  I  didn't  breathe.  I  was  too  scared. 
And,  besides,  a  body  couldrit  breathe  and  hear  such 
talk.  They  talked  low  and  earnest.  Bill  wanted  to 
kill  Turner.  He  says  j 

"  He's  said  he'll  tell,  and  he  will.  If  we  was  to  give 
both  our  shares  to  him  now  it  wouldn't  make  no  dif 
ference  after  the  row  and  the  way  we've  served  him. 


93 

Shore's  you're  born,  he'll  turn  State's  evidence ;  now 
you  hear  me.  I'm  for  putting  him  out  of  his  troubles." 

"  So'm  I,"  says  Packard,  very  quiet. 

"  Blame  it,  I'd  sorter  begun  to  think  you  wasn't. 
Well,  then,  that's  all  right.  Le's  go  and  do  it." 

"  Hold  on  a  minute  ;  I  hain't  had  my  say  yit.  You 
listen  to  me.  Shooting's  good,  but  there's  quieter 
ways  if  the  thing's  got  to  be  done.  But  what  /  say  is 
this :  it  ain't  good  sense  to  go  court'n  around  after  a 
halter  if  you  can  git  at  what  you're  up  to  in  some  way 
that's  jist  as  good  and  at  the  same  time  don't  bring 
you  into  no  resks.  Ain't  that  so?" 

"  You  bet  it  is.  But  how  you  goin'  to  manage  it 
this  time?" 

"  Well,  my  idea  is  this :  we'll  rustle  around  and 
gether  up  whatever  pickins  we've  overlooked  in  the 
state-rooms,  and  shove  for  shore  and  hide  the  truck. 
Then  we'll  wait.  Now  I  say  it  ain't  a-goin'  to  be 
more'n  two  hours  befo*  this  wrack  breaks  up  and 
washes  off  down  the  river.  See?  He'll  be  drownded, 
and  won't  have  nobody  to  blame  for  it  but  his  own 
self.  I  reckon  that's  a  considerble  sight  better  'n  killin' 
of  him.  I'm  unfavorable  to  killin'  a  man  as  long  as 
you  can  git  aroun'  it ;  it  ain't  good  sense,  it  ain't  good 
morals.  Ain't  I  right?" 

"  Yes,  I  reck'n  you  are.  But  s'pose  she  dorit  break 
up  and  wash  off?" 

"  Well,  we  can  wait  the  two  hours  anyway  and  see, 
can't  we?" 

"  All  right,  then  ;  come  along." 

So  they  started,  and  I  lit  out,  all  in  a  cold  sweat, 
and  scrambled  forward.  It  was  dark  as  pitch  there ; 
but  I  said,  in  a  kind  of  a  coarse  whisper,  "  Jim  !"  and 


94 

he  answered  up,  right  at  my  elbow,  with  a  sort  of  a 
moan,  and  I  says : 

"Quick,  Jim,  it  ain't  no  time  for  fooling  around  and 
moaning ;  there's  a  gang  of  murderers  in  yonder,  and 
if  we  don't  hunt  up  their  boat  and  set  her  drifting 
down  the  river  so  these  fellows  can't  get  away  from 
the  wreck  there's  one  of  'em  going  to  be  in  a  bad  fix. 
But  if  we  find  their  boat  we  can  put  all  of  'em  in  a 
bad  fix — for  the  sheriff  '11  get  'em.  Quick — hurry  ! 
I'll  hunt  the  labboard  side,  you  hunt  the  stabboard. 
You  start  at  the  raft,  and — " 

"Oh,  my  lordy,  lordy !  Raff  Dey  ain'  no  raf  no 
mo' ;  she  done  broke  loose  en  gone ! — en  here  we  is !" 


CHAPTER  XIII 

WELL,  I  catched  my  breath  and  most  fainted. 
Shut  up  on  a  wreck  with  such  a  gang  as  that !  But  it 
warn't  no  time  to  be  sentimentering.  We'd  got  to 
find  that  boat  now — had  to  have  it  for  ourselves.  So 
we  went  a-quaking  and  shaking  down  the  stabboard 
side,  and  slow  work  it  was,  too — seemed  a  week  be 
fore  we  got  to  the  stern.  No  sign  of  a  boat.  Jim  said 
he  didn't  believe  he  could  go  any  further — so  scared 
he  hadn't  hardly  any  strength  left,  he  said.  But  I 
said,  come  on,  if  we  get  left  on  this  wreck  we  are  in  a 
fix,  sure.  So  on  we  prowled  again.  We  struck  for 
the  stern  of  the  texas,  and  found  it,  and  then  scrab 
bled  along  forwards  on  the  skylight,  hanging  on  from 
shutter  to  shutter,  for  the  edge  of  the  skylight  was  in 
the  water.  When  we  got  pretty  close  to  the  cross- 
hall  door  there  was  the  skiff,  sure  enough  I  I  could 
just  barely  see  her.  I  felt  ever  so  thankful.  In  an 
other  second  I  would  a  been  aboard  of  her,  but  just 
then  the  door  opened.  One  of  the  men  stuck  his 
head  out  only  about  a  couple  of  foot  from  me,  and  I 
thought  I  was  gone ;  but  he  jerked  it  in  again,  and  says: 
"  Heave  that  blame  lantern  out  o'  sight,  Bill !" 
He  flung  a  bag  of  something  into  the  boat,  and 
then  got  in  himself  and  set  down.  It  was  Packard. 
Then  Bill  he  come  out  and  got  in.  Packard  says,  in  a 
low  voice : 


"  All  ready— shove  off !" 

I  couldn't  hardly  hang  on  to  the  shutters,  I  was  so 
weak.  But  Bill  says : 

"  Hold  on — 'd  you  go  through  him  ?" 

"  No.     Didn't  you  ?" 

"  No.     So  he's  got  his  share  o'  the  cash  yet." 

"  Well,  then,  come  along ;  no  use  to  take  truck  and 
leave  money." 

"  Say,  won't  he  suspicion  what  we're  up  to  ?" 

"  Maybe  he  won't.  But  we  got  to  have  it  anyway. 
Come  along." 

So  they  got  out  and  went  in. 

The  door  slammed  to  because  it  was  on  the  careened 
side ;  and  in  a  half  second  I  was  in  the  boat,  and  Jim 
come  tumbling  after  me.  I  out  with  my  knife  and 
cut  the  rope,  and  away  we  went ! 

We  didn't  touch  an  oar,  and  we  didn't  speak  nor 
whisper,  nor  hardly  even  breathe.  We  went  gliding 
swift  along,  dead  silent,  past  the  tip  of  the  paddle- 
box,  and  past  the  stern ;  then  in  a  second  or  two 
more  we  was  a  hundred  yards  below  the  wreck,  and 
the  darkness  soaked  her  up,  every  last  sign  of  her, 
and  we  was  safe,  and  knowed  it. 

When  we  was  three  or  four  hundred  yards  down 
stream  we  see  the  lantern  show  like  a  little  spark  at 
the  texas  door  for  a  second,  and  we  knowed  by  that 
that  the  rascals  had  missed  their  boat,  and  was  be 
ginning  to  understand  that  they  was  in  just  as  much 
trouble  now  as  Jim  Turner  was. 

Then  Jim  manned  the  oars,  and  we  took  out  after 
our  raft.  Now  was  the  first  time  that  I  begun  to 
worry  about  the  men  —  I  reckon  I  hadn't  had  time 
to  before.  I  begun  to  think  how  dreadful  it  was, 


97 

even  for  murderers,  to  be  in  such  a  fix.  I  says  to  my 
self,  there  ain't  no  telling  but  I  might  come  to  be  a 
murderer  myself  yet,  and  then  how  would  I  like  it? 
So  says  I  to  Jim: 

"  The  first  light  we  see  we'll  land  a  hundred  yards 
below  it  or  above  it,  in  a  place  where  it's  a  good  hid 
ing-place  for  you  and  the  skiff,  and  then  I'll  go  and 
fix  up  some  kind  of  a  yarn,  and  get  somebody  to  go 
for  that  gang  and  get  them  out  of  their  scrape,  so 
they  can  be  hung  when  their  time  comes." 

But  that  idea  was  a  failure ;  for  pretty  soon  it  be 
gun  to  storm  again,  and  this  time  worse  than  ever. 
The  rain  poured  down,  and  never  a  light  showed ;  ev 
erybody  in  bed,  I  reckon.  We  boomed  along  down 
the  river,  watching  for  lights  and  watching  for  our 
raft.  After  a  long  time  the  rain  let  up,  but  the  clouds 
stayed,  and  the  lightning  kept  whimpering,  and  by- 
and-by  a  flash  showed  us  a  black  thing  ahead,  float 
ing,  and  we  made  for  it. 

It  was  the  raft,  and  mighty  glad  was  we  to  get 
aboard  of  it  again.  We  seen  a  light  now  away  down 
to  the  right,  on  shore.  So  I  said  I  would  go  for  it. 
The  skiff  was  half  full  of  plunder  which  that  gang  had 
stole  there  on  the  wreck.  We  hustled  it  on  to  the 
raft  in  a  pile,  and  I  told  Jim  to  float  along  down,  and 
show  a  light  when  he  judged  lie  had  gone  about  two 
mile,  and  keep  it  burning  till  I  come ;  then  I  manned 
my  oars  and  shoved  for  the  light.  As  I  got  down  tow 
ards  it  three  or  four  more  showed — up  on  a  hill-side. 
It  was  a  village.  I  closed  in  above  the  shore-light,  and 
laid  on  my  oars  and  floated.  As  I  went  by  I  see  it 
was  a  lantern  hanging  on  the  jackstaff  of  a  double- 
hull  ferry-boat.  I  skimmed  around  for  the  watchman, 

7HF 


98 

a-wondering  whereabouts  he  slept  -,  and  by-and-by  I 
found  him  roosting  on  the  bitts  forward,  with  his  head 
down  between  his  knees.  I  gave  his  shoulder  two  or 
three  little  shoves,  and  begun  to  cry. 

He  stirred  up  in  a  kind  of  a  startlish  way  ;  but  when 
he  see  it  was  only  me  he  took  a  good  gap  and  stretch, 
and  then  he  says : 

"  Hello,  what's  up  ?  Don't  cry,  bub.  What's  the 
trouble  ?" 

I  says: 

"  Pap,  and  mam,  and  sis,  and — " 

Then  I  broke  down.     He  says: 

"  Oh,  dang  it  now,  dorit  take  on  so ;  we  all  has  to 
have  our  troubles,  and  this  'n  '11  come  out  all  right. 
What's  the  matter  with  'em  ?" 

"They're — they're — are  you  the  watchman  of  the 
boat?" 

"Yes,"  he  says,  kind  of  pretty -well-satisfied  like. 
*  I'm  the  captain  and  the  owner  and  the  mate  and 
the  pilot  and  watchman  and  head  deck  -  hand ;  and 
sometimes  I'm  the  freight  and  passengers.  I  ain't  as 
rich  as  old  Jim  Hornback,  and  I  can't  be  so  blame' 
generous  and  good  to  Tom,  Dick,  and  Harry  as  what 
he  is,  and  slam  around  money  the  way  he  does ;  but 
I've  told  him  a  many  a  time  't  I  wouldn't  trade 
places  with  him ;  for,  says  I,  a  sailor's  life's  the  life 
for  me,  and  I'm  derned  if  Pd  live  two  mile  out  o' 
town,  where  there  ain't  nothing  ever  goin'  on,  not  for 
all  his  spondulicks  and  as  much  more  on  top  of  it. 

Says  I—" 

I  broke  in  and  says : 

"They're  in  an  awful  peck  of  trouble,  and — " 


99 

"  Whj',  pap  and  mam  and  sis  and  Miss  Hooker; 
and  if  you'd  take  your  ferry-boat  and  go  up  there — " 

"Up  where?     Where  are  they?" 

"  On  the  wreck." 

"What  wreck?" 

"  Why,  there  ain't  but  one." 

"  What,  you  don't  mean  the  Walter  Scott  ?" 

"  Yes." 

"  Good  land  !  what  are  they  doin'  there,  for  gracious 
sakes  ?" 

"  Well,  they  didn't  go  there  a-purpose." 

"  I  bet  they  didn't !  Why,  great  goodness,  there 
ain't  no  chance  for  'em  if  they  don't  git  off  mighty 
quick !  Why,  how  in  the  nation  did  they  ever  git 
into  such  a  scrape  ?" 

"Easy  enough.  Miss  Hooker  was  a -visiting  up 
there  to  the  town — " 

"  Yes,  Booth's  Landing — go  on." 

"  She  was  a-visiting  there  at  Booth's  Landing,  and 
just  in  the  edge  of  the  evening  she  started  over  with 
her  nigger  woman  in  the  horse-ferry  to  stay  all  night 
at  her  friend's  house,  Miss  What-you-may-call-her — I 
disremember  her  name — and  they  lost  their  steering- 
oar,  and  swung  around  and  went  a -floating  down, 
stern-first,  about  two  mile,  and  saddle-baggsed  on  the 
wreck,  and  the  ferry-man  and  the  nigger  woman  and 
the  horses  was  all  lost,  but  Miss  Hooker  she  made  a 
grab  and  got  aboard  the  wreck.  Well,  about  an  hour 
after  dark  we  come  along  down  in  our  trading-scow, 
and  it  was  so  dark  we  didn't  notice  the  wreck  till  we 
was  right  on  it ;  and  so  we  saddle-baggsed  ;  but  all  of 
us  was  saved  but  Bill  Whipple — and  oh,  he  was  the 
best  cretur ! — I  most  wish  't  it  had  been  me,  I  do." 


100 


"  My  George !  It's  the  beatenest  thing  I  ever 
struck.  And  then  what  did  you  all  do?" 

"  Well,  we  hollered  and  took  on,  but  it's  so  wide 
there  we  couldn't  make  nobody  hear.  So  pap  said 
somebody  got  to  get  ashore  and  get  help  somehow. 
I  was  the  only  one  that  could  swim,  so  I  made  a  dash 
for  it,  and  Miss  Hooker  she  said  if  I  didn't  strike  help 
sooner,  come  here  and  hunt  up  her  uncle,  and  he'd  fix 
the  thing.  I  made  the  land  about  a  mile  below,  and 
been  fooling  along  ever  since,  trying  to  get  people  to 
do  something,  but  they  said,  '  What,  in  such  a  night 
and  such  a  current?  There  ain't  no  sense  in  it ;  go 
for  the  steam-ferry.'  Now  if  you'll  go  and — " 

"  By  Jackson,  I'd  like  to,  and,  blame  it,  I  don't  know 
but  I  will;  but  who  in  the  dingnation's  a-goin'  to  pay 
for  it?  Do  you  reckon  your  pap — " 

"  Why  that's  all  right.  Miss  Hooker  she  tole  me, 
particular,  that  her  uncle  Hornback — " 

"  Great  guns !  is  he  her  uncle  ?  Looky  here,  you 
break  for  that  light  over  yonder-way,  and  turn  out 
west  when  you  git  there,  and  about  a  quarter  of  a 
mile  out  you'll  come  to  the  tavern  ;  tell  'em  to  dart 
you  out  to  Jim  Hornback's,  and  he'll  foot  the  bill. 
And  don't  you  fool  around  any,  because  he'll  want  to 
know  the  news.  Tell  him  I'll  have  his  niece  all  safe 
before  he  can  get  to  town.  Hump  yourself,  now  ; 
I'm  a-going  up  around  the  corner  here  to  roust  out 
my  engineer." 

I  struck  for  the  light,  but  as  soon  as  he  turned  the 
corner  I  went  back  and  got  into  my  skiff  and  bailed 
her  out,  and  then  pulled  up  shore  in  the  easy  water 
about  six  hundred  yards,  and  tucked  myself  in  among 
some  wood-boats ;  for  I  couldn't  rest  easy  till  I  could 


see  the  ferry-boat  start.  But  take  it  all  around,  I  was 
feeling  ruther  comfortable  on  accounts  of  taking  all 
this  trouble  for  that  gang,  for  not  many  would  a  done 
it.  I  wished  the  widow  knowed  about  it.  I  judged  she 
would  be  proud  of  me  for  helping  these  rapscallions, 
because  rapscallions  and  dead-beats  is  the  kind  the 
widow  and  good  people  takes  the  most  interest  in. 

Well,  before  long  here  comes  the  wreck,  dim  and 
dusky,  sliding  along  down  !  A  kind  of  cold  shiver 
went  through  me,  and  then  I  struck  out  for  her.  She 
was  very  deep,  and  I  see  in  a  minute  there  warn't 
much  chance  for  anybody  being  alive  in  her.  I  pulled 
all  around  her  and  hollered  a  little,  but  there  wasn't 
any  answer;  all  dead  still.  I  felt  a  little  bit  heavy- 
hearted  about  the  gang,  but  not  much,  for  I  reckoned 
if  they  could  stand  it  I  could. 

Then  here  comes  the  ferry-boat ;  so  I  shoved  for 
the  middle  of  the  river  on  a  long  down-stream  slant ; 
and  when  I  judged  I  was  out  of  eye-reach  I  laid  on 
my  oars,  and  looked  back  and  see  her  go  and  smell 
around  the  wreck  for  Miss  Hooker's  remainders,  be 
cause  the  captain  would  know  her  uncle  Hornback 
would  want  them ;  and  then  pretty  soon  the  ferry 
boat  give  it  up  and  went  for  shore,  and  I  laid  into  my 
work  and  went  a-booming  down  the  river. 

It  did  seem  a  powerful  long  time  before  Jim's  light 
showed  up ;  and  when  it  did  show  it  looked  like  it 
was  a  thousand  mile  off.  By  the  time  I  got  there  the 
sky  was  beginning  to  get  a  little  gray  in  the  east ;  so 
we  struck  for  an  island,  and  hid  the  raft,  and  sunk  the 
skiff,  and  turned  in  and  slept  like  dead  people. 


CHAPTER  XIV 

Bv-AND-BY,  when  we  got  up,  we  turned  over  the 
truck  the  gang  had  stole  off  of  the  wreck,  and  found 
boots,  and  blankets,  and  clothes,  and  all  sorts  of  other 
things,  and  a  lot  of  books,  and  a  spy-glass,  and  three 
boxes  of  seegars.  We  hadn't  ever  been  this  rich  be 
fore  in  neither  of  our  lives.  The  seegars  was  prime. 
We  laid  off  all  the  afternoon  in  the  woods  talking, 
and  me  reading  the  books,  and  having  a  general  good 
time.  I  told  Jim  all  about  what  happened  inside  the 
wreck  and  at  the  ferry-boat,  and  I  said  these  kinds 
of  things  was  adventures ;  but  he  said  he  didn't  want 
no  more  adventures.  He  said  that  when  I  went  in 
the  texas  and  he  crawled  back  to  get  on  the  raft  and 
found  her  gone  he  nearly  died,  because  he  judged 
it  was  all  up  with  him  anyway  it  could  be  fixed ;  for 
if  he  didn't  get  saved  he  would  get  drownded ;  and 
if  he  did  get  saved,  whoever  saved  him  would  send 
him  back  home  so  as  to  get  the  reward,  and  then 
Miss  Watson  would  sell  him  South,  sure.  Well,  he 
was  right ;  he  was  most  always  right ;  he  had  an  un 
common  level  head  for  a  nigger. 

I  read  considerable  to  Jim  about  kings,  and  dukes, 
and  earls,  and  such,  and  how  gaudy  they  dressed,  and 
how  much  style  they  put  on,  and  called  each  other 
your  majesty,  and  your  grace,  and  your  lordship,  and 


IQ3 

so  on,  'stead  of  mister;  and  Jim's  eyes  bugged  out, 
and  he  was  interested.  He  says  : 

"I  didn'  know  dey  was  so  many  un  um.  I  hain't 
hearn  'bout  none  un  um,  skasely,  but  ole  King  Sol- 
lermun,  onless  you  counts  dem  kings  dat's  in  a  pack 
er  k'yards.  How  much  do  a  king  git  ?" 

"  Get  ?"  I  says ;  "  why,  they  get  a  thousand  dollars 
a  month  if  they  want  it ;  they  can  have  just  as  much 
as  they  want ;  everything  belongs  to  them." 

"Am  dat  gay?     En  what  dey  got  to  do,  Huck?" 

"  They  don't  do  nothing!  Why,  how  you  talk'. 
They  just  set  around." 

"  No  ;  is  dat  so  ?" 

"  Of  course  it  is.  They  just  set  around — except, 
maybe,  when  there's  a  war ;  then  they  go  to  the  war. 
But  other  times  they  just  lazy  around  ;  or  go  hawking 
— just  hawking  and  sp —  Sh  ! — d'  you  hear  a  noise?" 

We  skipped  out  and  looked;  but  it  warn't  nothing 
but  the  flutter  of  a  steamboat's  wheel  away  down, 
coming  around  the  point ;  so  we  come  back. 

"  Yes,"  says  I,  "  and  other  times,  when  things  is 
dull,  they  fuss  with  the  parlyment ;  and  if  everybody 
don't  go  just  so  he  whacks  their  heads  off.  But 
mostly  they  hang  round  the  harem." 

"Roun*  de  which?" 

"  Harem." 

"  What's  de  harem  ?" 

"  The  place  where  he  keeps  his  wives.  Don't  you 
know  about  the  harem  ?  Solomon  had  one  ;  he  had 
about  a  million  wives." 

"  Why,  yes,  dat's  so ;  I  —  I'd  done  forgot  it.  A 
harem's  a  bo'd'n-house,  I  reck'n.  Mos'  likely  dey  has 
rackety  times  in  de  nussery.  En  I  reck'n  de  wives 


104 

quarrels  considable  ;  en  dat  'crease  de  racket.  Yit  dey 
say  Sollermun  de  wises*  man  dat  ever  live\  I  doan' 
take  no  stock  in  dat.  Bekase  why :  would  a  wise  man 
want  to  live  in  de  mids'  er  sich  a  blim-blammin'  all 
de  time?  No — 'deed  he  wouldn't.  A  wise  man  'ud 
take  en  buil'  a  biler-factry ;  en  den  he  could  shet  down 
de  biler-factry  when  he  want  to  res'." 

"  Well,  but  he  was  the  wisest  man,  anyway ;  be 
cause  the  widow  she  told  me  so,  her  own  self." 

"  I  doan  k'yer  what  de  widder  say,  he  warrit  no 
wise  man,  nuther.  He  had  some  er  de  dad-fetchedes' 
ways  I  ever  see.  Does  you  know  'bout  dat  chile  dat 
he  'uz  gwyne  to  chop  in  two  ?" 

"Yes,  the  widow  told  me  all  about  it." 

"  Well,  den !  Warn'  dat  de  beatenes'  notion  in  de 
worl'  ?  You  jes'  take  en  look  at  it  a  minute.  Dah's 
de  stump,  dah — dat's  one  er  de  women  ;  heah's  you — 
dat's  de  yuther  one  -,  Fs  Sollermun  ;  en  dish  yer  dollar 
bill's  de  chile.  Bofe  un  you  claims  it.  What  does 
I  do?  Does  I  shin  aroun'  mongs'  de  neighbors  en 
fine  out  which  un  you  de  bill  do  b'long  to,  en  han' 
it  over  to  de  right  one,  all  safe  en  soun',  de  way  dat 
anybody  dat  had  any  gumption  would  ?  No  ;  I  take 
en  whack  de  bill  in  two,  en  give  half  un  it  to  you, 
en  de  yuther  half  to  de  yuther  woman.  Dat's  de 
way  Sollermun  was  gwyne  to  do  wid  de  chile.  Now 
I  want  to  ast  you  :  what's  de  use  er  dat  half  a  bill  ? — 
can't  buy  noth'n  wid  it.  En  what  use  is  a  half  a  chile  ? 
I  wouldn'  give  a  dern  for  a  million  un  um." 

"  But  hang  it,  Jim,  you've  clean  missed  the  point — 
blame  it,  you've  missed  it  a  thousand  mile." 

"Who?  Me?  Go  'long.  Doan'  talk  to  me  'bout 
yo'  pints.  I  reck'n  I  knows  sense  when  I  sees  it ;  en 


IQ5 

dey  ain'  no  sense  in  sich  doin's  as  dat.  De  'spute 
warn't  'bout  a  half  a  chile,  de  'spute  was  'bout  a  whole 
chile;  en  de  man  dat  think  he  kin  settle  a  'spute  'bout 
a  whole  chile  wid  a  half  a  chile  doan'  know  enough 
to  come  in  out'n  de  rain.  Doan'  talk  to  me  'bout 
Sollermun,  Huck,  I  knows  him  by  de  back." 

"  But  I  tell  you  you  don't  get  the  point." 

"  Blame  de  point !  I  reck'n  I  knows  what  I  knows. 
En  mine  you,  de  real  pint  is  down  furder — it's  down 
deeper.  It  lays  in  de  way  Sollermun  was  raised.  You 
take  a  man  dat's  got  on'y  one  er  two  chillen ;  is  dat 
man  gwyne  to  be  waseful  o'  chillen  ?  No,  he  ain't ;  he 
can't  'ford  it.  He  know  how  to  value  'em.  But  you 
take  a  man  dat's  got  'bout  five  million  chillen  runnin' 
roun'  de  house,  en  it's  diffunt.  He  as  soon  chop  a  chile 
in  two  as  a  cat.  Dey's  plenty  mo'.  A  chile  er  two, 
mo'  er  less,  warn't  no  consekens  to  Sollermun,  dad 
fatch  him !" 

I  never  see  such  a  nigger.  If  he  got  a  notion  in 
his  head  once,  there  warn't  no  getting  it  out  again. 
He  was  the  most  down  on  Solomon  of  any  nigger  I 
ever  see.  So  I  went  to  talking  about  other  kings,  and 
let  Solomon  slide.  I  told  about  Louis  Sixteenth  that 
got  his  head  cut  off  in  France  long  time  ago;  and 
about  his  little  boy  the  dolphin,  that  would  a  been  a 
king,  but  they  took  and  shut  him  up  in  jail,  and  some 
say  he  died  there. 

"  Po'  little  chap." 

"  But  some  says  he  got  out  and  got  away,  and  come 
to  America." 

"  Dat's  good!  But  he'll  be  pooty  lonesome — dey 
ain'  no  kings  here,  is  dey,  Huck  ?" 

"  No." 


io6 


"  Den  he  cain't  git  no  situation.  What  he  gwyne 
to  do?" 

"  Well,  I  don't  know.  Some  of  them  gets  on  the 
police,  and  some  of  them  learns  people  how  to  talk 
French." 

"  Why,  Huck,  doan*  de  French  people  talk  de 
same  way  we  does?" 

"No,  Jim;  you  couldn't  understand  a  word  they 
said — not  a  single  word." 

"Well,  now,  I  be  ding -busted!  How  do  dat 
come?" 

"/don't  know,  but  it's  so.  I  got  some  of  their 
jabber  out  of  a  book.  S'pose  a  man  was  to  come  to 
you  and  say  Polly-voo-franzy — what  would  you  think  ?" 

"  I  wouldn'  think  nuff'n ;  I'd  take  en  bust  him  over 
de  head — dat  is,  if  he  warn't  white.  I  wouldn't  'low 
no  nigger  to  call  me  dat." 

"  Shucks,  it  ain't  calling  you  anything.  It's  only 
saying,  do  you  know  how  to  talk  French  ?" 

"  Well,  den,  why  couldn't  he  say  it?" 

"Why,  he  is  a-saying  it.  That's  a  Frenchman's 
way  of  saying  it." 

"  Well,  it's  a  blame'  ridicklous  way,  en  I  doan'  want 
to  hear  no  mo'  'bout  it.  Dey  ain'  no  sense  in  it." 

"  Looky  here,  Jim  ;  does  a  cat  talk  like  we  do?" 

"  No,  a  cat  don't." 

"  Well,  does  a  cow  ?" 

"  No,  a  cow  don't,  nuther." 

"  Does  a  cat  talk  like  a  cow,  or  a  cow  talk  like  a 
cat?" 

"  No,  dey  don't." 

"  It's  natural  and  right  for  'em  to  talk  different 
from  each  other,  ain't  it?" 


IQ7 

"  Course." 

"  And  ain't  it  natural  and  right  for  a  cat  and  a  cow 
to  talk  different  from  us?" 

"Why,  mos'  sholy  it  is." 

"  Well,  then,  why  ain't  it  natural  and  right  for  a 
Frenchman  to  talk  different  from  us  ?  You  answer  me 
that." 

"  Is  a  cat  a  man,  Huck?" 

"No." 

"Well,  den,  dey  ain't  no  sense  in  a  cat  talkin'  like  a 
man.  Is  a  cow  a  man? — er  is  a  cow  a  cat  ?" 

"  No,  she  ain't  either  of  them." 

"  Well,  den,  she  ain't  got  no  business  to  talk  like 
either  one  er  the  yuther  of  'em.  Is  a  Frenchman  a 
man?" 

"  Yes." 

"  Well,  den !  Dad  blame  it,  why  doan'  he  talk  like 
a  man  ?  You  answer  me  dat!" 

I  see  it  warn't  no  use  wasting  words  —  you  can't 
learn  a  nigger  to  argue.  So  I  quit. 


CHAPTER   XV 

WE  judged  that  three  nights  more  would  fetch  us  to 
Cairo,  at  the  bottom  of  Illinois,  where  the  Ohio  River 
comes  in,  and  that  was  what  we  was  after.  We  would 
sell  the  raft  and  get  on  a  steamboat  and  go  way  up 
the  Ohio  amongst  the  free  States,  and  then  be  out  of 
trouble. 

Well,  the  second  night  a  fog  begun  to  come  on,  and 
we  made  for  a  tow-head  to  tie  to,  for  it  wouldn't  do 
to  try  to  run  in  fog;  but  "when  I  paddled  ahead  in  the 
canoe,  with  the  line  to  make  fast,  there  warn't  any 
thing  but  little  saplings  to  tie  to.  I  passed  the  line 
around  one  of  them  right  on  the  edge  of  the  cut 
bank,  but  there  was  a  stiff  current,  and  the  raft  come 
booming  down  so  lively  she  tore  it  out  by  the  roots 
and  away  she  went.  I  see  the  fog  closing  down,  and 
it  made  me  so  sick  and  scared  I  couldn't  budge  for 
most  a  half  a  minute  it  seemed  to  me  —  and  then 
there  warn't  no  raft  in  sight ;  you  couldn't  see  twenty 
yards.  I  jumped  into  the  canoe  and  run  back  to  the 
stern,  and  grabbed  the  paddle  and  set  her  back  a 
stroke.  But  she  didn't  come.  I  was  in  such  a  hurry 
I  hadn't  untied  her.  I  got  up  and  tried  to  untie  her, 
but  I  was  so  excited  my  hands  shook  so  I  couldn't 
hardly  do  anything  with  them. 

As  soon  as  I  got  started  I  took  out  after  the  raft, 
hot  and  heavy,  right  down  the  tow-head.  That  was 


109 

all  right  as  far  as  it  went,  but  the  tow-head  warn't 
sixty  yards  long,  and  the  minute  I  flew  by  the  foot  of 
it  I  shot  out  into  the  solid  white  fog,  and  hadn't  no 
more  idea  which  way  I  was  going  than  a  dead  man. 

Thinks  I,  it  won't  do  to  paddle ;  first  I  know  I'll 
run  into  the  bank  or  a  tow-head  or  something ;  I  got 
to  set  still  and  float,  and  yet  it's  mighty  fidgety 
business  to  have  to  hold  your  hands  still  at  such  a 
time.  I  whooped  and  listened.  Away  down  there 
somewheres  I  hears  a  small  whoop,  and  up  comes 
my  spirits.  I  went  tearing  after  it,  listening  sharp  to 
hear  it  again.  The  next  time  it  come  I  see  I  warn't 
heading  for  it,  but  heading  away  to  the  right  of  it. 
And  the  next  time  I  was  heading  away  to  the  left  of 
it — and  not  gaining  on  it  much  either,  for  I  was  fly 
ing  around,  this  way  and  that  and  t'other,  but  it  was 
going  straight  ahead  all  the  time. 

I  did  wish  the  fool  would  think  to  beat  a  tin  pan, 
and  beat  it  all  the  time,  but  he  never  did,  and  it  was 
the  still  places  between  the  whoops  that  was  making 
the  trouble  for  me.  Well,  I  fought  along,  and  direct 
ly  I  hears  the  whoop  behind  me.  I  was  tangled  good 
now.  That  was  somebody  else's  whoop,  or  else  I 
was  turned  around. 

I  throwed  the  paddle  down.  I  heard  the  whoop 
again ;  it  was  behind  me  yet,  but  in  a  different  place  ; 
it  kept  coming,  and  kept  changing  its  place,  and  I 
kept  answering,  till  by-and-by  it  was  in  front  of  me 
again,  and  I  knowed  the  current  had  swung  the  canoe's 
head  down-stream,  and  I  was  all  right  if  that  was  Jim 
and  not  some  other  raftsman  hollering.  I  couldn't 
tell  nothing  about  voices  in  a  fog,  for  nothing  don't 
look  natural  nor  sound  natural  in  a  fog. 


no 


The  whooping  went  on,  and  in  about  a  minute  I 
come  a-booming  down  on  a  cut  bank  with  smoky 
ghosts  of  big  trees  on  it,  and  the  current  throwed  me 
off  to  the  left  and  shot  by,  amongst  a  lot  of  snags 
that  fairly  roared,  the  current  was  tearing  by  them  so 
swift. 

In  another  second  or  two  it  was  solid  white  and 
still  again.  I  set  perfectly  still  then,  listening  to  my 
heart  thump,  and  I  reckon  I  didn't  draw  a  breath 
while  it  thumped  a  hundred. 

I  just  give  up  then.  I  knowed  what  the  matter 
was.  That  cut  bank  was  an  island,  and  Jim  had  gone 
down  t'other  side  of  it.  It  warn't  no  tow-head  that 
you  could  float  by  in  ten  minutes.  It  had  the  big 
timber  of  a  regular  island ;  it  might  be  five  or  six 
mile  long  and  more  than  a  half  a  mile  wide. 

I  kept  quiet,  with  my  ears  cocked,  about  fifteen 
minutes,  I  reckon.  I  was  floating  along,  of  course, 
four  or  five  miles  an  hour;  but  you  don't  ever  think 
of  that.  No,  you  feel  like  you  are  laying  dead  still 
on  the  water;  and  if  a  little  glimpse  of  a  snag  slips 
by  you  don't  think  to  yourself  how  fast  you  re  going, 
but  you  catch  your  breath  and  think,  my  \  how  that 
snag's  tearing  along.  If  you  think  it  ain't  dismal  and 
lonesome  out  in  a  fog  that  way  by  yourself  in  the 
night,  you  try  it  once — you'll  see. 

Next,  for  about  a  half  an  hour,  I  whoops  now  and 
then ;  at  last  I  hears  the  answer  a  long  ways  off,  and 
tries  to  follow  it,  but  I  couldn't  do  it,  and  directly  I 
judged  I'd  got  into  a  nest  of  tow-heads,  for  I  had 
little  dim  glimpses  of  them  on  both  sides  of  me — some 
times  just  a  narrow  channel  between,  and  some  that 
I  couldn't  see  I  knowed  was  there  because  I'd  hear 


the  wash  of  the  current  against  the  old  dead  brush 
and  trash  that  hung  over  the  banks.  Well,  I  warn't 
long  losing  the  whoops  down  amongst  the  tow-heads ; 
and  I  only  tried  to  chase  them  a  little  while,  anyway, 
because  it  was  worse  than  chasing  a  Jack-o'-lantern. 
You  never  knowed  a  sound  dodge  around  so,  and 
swap  places  so  quick  and  so  much. 

I  had  to  claw  away  from  the  bank  pretty  lively 
four  or  five  times,  to  keep  from  knocking  the  islands 
out  of  the  river;  and  so  I  judged  the  raft  must  be 
butting  into  the  bank  every  now  and  then,  or  else  it 
would  get  further  ahead  and  clear  out  of  hearing — it 
was  floating  a  little  faster  than  what  I  was. 

Well,  I  seemed  to  be  in  the  open  river  again  by- 
and-by,  but  I  couldn't  hear  no  sign  of  a  whoop  no- 
wheres.  I  recko'ned  Jim  had  fetched  up  on  a  snag, 
maybe,  and  it  was  all  up  with  him.  I  was  good  and 
tired,  so  I  laid  down  in  the  canoe  and  said  I  wouldn't 
bother  no  more.  I  didn't  want  to  go  to  sleep,  of 
course  ;  but  I  was  so  sleepy  I  couldn't  help  it ;  so  I 
thought  I  would  take  jest  one  little  cat-nap. 

But  I  reckon  it  was  more  than  a  cat-nap,  for  when 
I  waked  up  the  stars  was  shining  bright,  the  fog  was  all 
gone,  and  I  was  spinning  down  a  big  bend  stern-first. 
First  I  didn't  know  where  I  was;  I  thought  I  was 
dreaming ;  and  when  things  begun  to  come  back  to 
me  they  seemed  to  come  up  dim  out  of  last  week. 

It  was  a  monstrous  big  river  here,  with  the  tallest 
and  the  thickest  kind  of  timber  on  both  banks  ;  just 
a  solid  wall,  as  well  as  I  could  see  by  the  stars.  I 
looked  away  down-stream,  and  seen  a  black  speck  on 
the  water.  I  took  out  after  it ;  but  when  I  got  to  it 
it  warn't  nothing  but  a  couple  of  saw-logs  made  fast  " 


112 


together.  Then  I  see  another  speck,  and  chased  that ; 
then  another,  and  this  time  I  was  right.  It  was  the 
raft. 

When  I  got  to  it  Jim  was  setting  there  with  his 
head  down  between  his  knees,  asleep,  with  his  right 
arm  hanging  over  the  steering-oar.  The  other  oar  was 
smashed  off,  and  the  raft  was  littered  up  with  leaves 
and  branches  and  dirt.  So  she'd  had  a  rough  time. 

I  made  fast  and  laid  down  under  Jim's  nose  on  the 
raft,  and  began  to  gap,  and  stretch  my  fists  out  against 
Jim,  and  says ; 

"  Hello,  Jim,  have  I  been  asleep  ?  Why  didn't  you 
stir  me  up  ?" 

"Goodness  gracious,  is  dat  you,  Huck?  En  you 
ain'  dead — you  ain'  drownded — you's  back  agin  ?  It's 
too  good  for  true,  honey,  it's  too  good  for  true.  Lem- 
me  look  at  you,  chile,  lemme  feel  o'  you.  No,  you 
ain'  dead !  you's  back  agin,  'live  en  soun',  jis  de  same 
ole  Huck — de  same  ole  Huck,  thanks  to  goodness  !" 

"  What's  the  matter  with  you,  Jim  ?  You  been 
a-drinking  ?" 

"  Drinkin'  ?  Has  I  ben  a-drinkin'  ?  Has  I  had  a 
chance  to  be  a-drinkin'  ?" 

"  Well,  then,  what  makes  you  talk  so  wild  ?" 

"  How  does  I  talk  wild?" 

"How?  Why,  hain't  you  been  talking  about  my 
coming  back,  and  all  that  stuff,  as  if  I'd  been  gone 
away  ?" 

"  Huck — Huck  Finn,  you  look  me  in  de  eye ;  look 
me  in  de  eye.  Hairit  you  ben  gone  away  ?" 

"  Gone  away  ?  Why,  what  in  the  nation  do  you 
mean  ?  7  hain't  been  gone  anywheres.  Where  would 
I  go  to?" 


"3 

"  Well,  looky  here,  boss,  dey's  sumf'n  wrong,  dey  is. 
Is  I  me,  or  who  is  I  ?  Is  I  heah,  or  whah  is  I  ?  Now 
dat's  what  I  wants  to  know." 

"Well,  I  think  you're  here,  plain  enough,  but  I 
think  you're  a  tangle-headed  old  fool,  Jim." 

"  I  is,  is  I  ?  Well,  you  answer  me  dis :  Didn't  you 
tote  out  de  line  in  de  canoe  fer  to  make  fas'  to  de 
tow-head  ?" 

"  No,  I  didn't.  What  tow-head  ?  I  hain't  seen  no 
tow-head." 

"You  hain't  seen  no  tow-head?  Looky  here, 
didn't  de  line  pull  loose  en  de  raf  go  a-hummin' 
down  de  river,  en  leave  you  en  de  canoe  behine  in 
de  fog?" 

"What  fog?" 

"  Why,  de  fog ! — de  fog  dat's  ben  aroun'  all  night. 
En  didn't  you  whoop,  en  didn't  I  whoop,  tell  we  got 
mix'  up  in  de  islands  en  one  un  us  got  los'  en  t'other 
one  was  jis'  as  good  as  los',  'kase  he  didn'  know  whah 
he  wuz?  En  didn't  I  bust  up  agin  a  lot  er  dem 
islands  en  have  a  turrible  time  en  mos'  git  drownd- 
ed?  Now'ain'  dat  so,  boss — ain't  it  so?  You  answer 
me  dat." 

"  Well,  this  is  too  many  for  me,  Jim.  I  hain't  seen 
no  fog,  nor  no  islands,  nor  no  troubles,  nor  nothing.  I 
been  setting  here  talking  with  you  all  night  till  you 
went  to  sleep  about  ten  minutes  ago,  and  I  reckon 
I  done  the  same.  You  couldn't  a  got  drunk  in  that 
time,  so  of  course  you've  been  dreaming." 

"  Dad  fetch  it,  how  is  I  gwyne  to  dream  all  dat  in 
ten  minutes  ?" 

"  Well,  hang  it  all,  you  did  dream  it,  because  there 
didn't  any  of  it  happen." 

8HP 


H4 

"  But,  Huck,  it's  all  jis'  as  plain  to  me  as — " 

"  It  don't  make  no  difference  how  plain  it  is ;  there 
ain't  nothing  in  it.  I  know,  because  I've  been  here 
all  the  time." 

Jim  didn't  say  nothing  for  about  five  minutes,  but 
set  there  studying  over  it.  Then  he  says  : 

"  Well,  den,  I  reck'n  I  did  dream  it,  Huck ;  but  dog 
my  cats  ef  it  ain't  de  powerfullest  dream  I  ever  see. 
En  I  hain't  ever  had  no  dream  b'fo'  dat's  tired  me 
like  dis  one." 

"  Oh,  well,  that's  all  right,  because  a  dream  does  tire 
a  body  like  everything  sometimes.  But  this  one  was 
a  staving  dream',  tell  me  all  about  it,  Jim." 

So  Jim  went  to  work  and  told  me  the  whole  thing 
right  through,  just  as  it  happened,  only  he  painted  it 
up  considerable.  Then  he  said  he  must  start  in  and 
"  'terpret "  it,  because  it  was  sent  for  a  warning.  He 
said  the  first  tow-head  stood  for  a  man  that  would  try 
to  do  us  some  good,  but  the  current  was  another  man 
that  would  get  us  away  from  him.  The  whoops  was 
warnings  that  would  come  to  us  every  now  and  then, 
and  if  we  didn't  try  hard  to  make  out  to  understand 
them  they'd  just  take  us  into  bad  luck,  'stead  of  keep 
ing  us  out  of  it.  The  lot  of  tow-heads  was  troubles 
we  was  going  to  get  into  with  quarrelsome  people 
and  all  kinds  of  mean  folks,  but  if  we  minded  our 
business  and  didn't  talk  back  and  aggravate  them,  we 
would  pull  through  and  get  out  of  the  fog  and  into 
the  big  clear  river,  which  was  the  free  states,  and 
wouldn't  have  no  more  trouble. 

It  had  clouded  up  pretty  dark  just  after  I  got  on  to 
the  raft,  but  it  was  clearing  up  again  now. 

"  Oh,  well,  that's  all  interpreted  well  enough  as  far 


"5 

as  it  goes,  Jim,"  I  says;  "but  what  does  these  things 
stand  for?" 

It  was  the  leaves  and  rubbish  on  the  raft  and  the 
smashed  oar.  You  could  see  them  first-rate  now. 

Jim  looked  at  the  trash,  and  then  looked  at  me,  and 
back  at  the  trasrv  again.  He  had  got  the  dream  fixed 
so  strong  in  his  head  that  he  couldn't  seem  to  shake 
it  loose  and  get  the  facts  back  into  its  place  again 
right  away.  But  when  he  did  get  the  thing  straight 
ened  around  he  looked  at  me  steady  without  ever 
smiling,  and  says : 

"What  do  dey  stan'  for?  I'se  gwyne  to  tell  you. 
When  I  got  all  wore  out  wid  work,  en  wid  de  callin' 
for  you,  en  went  to  sleep,  my  heart  wuz  mos'  broke 
bekase  you  wuz  los',  en  I  didn'  k'yer  no'  mo'  what  be 
come  er  me  en  de  raf.  En  when  I  wake  up  en  fine 
you  back  agin,  all  safe  en  soun',  de  tears  come,  en  I 
could  a  got  down  on  my  knees  en  kiss  yo'  foot,  I's  so 
thankful.  En  all  you  wuz  thinkin'  'bout  wuz  how 
you  could  make  a  fool  uv  ole  Jim  wid  a  lie.  Dat 
truck  dah  is  trash;  en  trash  is  what  people  is  dat  puts 
dirt  on  de  head  er  dey  fren's  en  makes  'em  ashamed." 

Then  he  got  up  slow  and  walked  to  the  wigwam, 
and  went  in  there  without  saying  anything  but  that. 
But  that  was  enough.  It  made  me  feel  so  mean  I 
could  almost  kissed  his  foot  to  get  him  to  take  it 
back. 

It  was  fifteen  minutes  before  I  could  work  myself 
up  to  go  and  humble  myself  to  a  nigger ;  but  I  done 
it,  and  I  warn't  ever  sorry  for  it  afterwards,  neither. 
I  didn  t  do  him  no  more  mean  tricks,  and  I  wouldn't 
done  that  one  if  I  d  a  knowed  it  would  make  him  feel 
that  way. 


CHAPTER  XVI 

WE  slept  most  all  day,  and  started  out  at  night,  a 
little  ways  behind  a  monstrous  long  raft  that  was  as 
long  going  by  as  a  procession.  She  had  four  long 
sweeps  at  each  end,  so  we  judged  she  carried  as  many 
as  thirty  men,  likely.  She  had  five  big  wigwams 
aboard,  wide  apart,  and  an  open  camp  fire  in  the  mid 
dle,  and  a  tall  flag -pole  at  each  end.  There  was  a 
power  of  style  about  her.  It  amounted  to  something 
being  a  raftsman  on  such  a  craft  as  that. 

We  went  drifting  down  into  a  big  bend,  and  the 
night  clouded  up  and  got  hot.  The  river  was  very 
wide,  and  was  walled  with  solid  timber  on  both  sides ; 
you  couldn't  see  a  break  in  it  hardly  ever,  or  a  light. 
We  talked  about  Cairo,  and  wondered  whether  we 
would  know  it  when  we  got  to  it.  I  said  likely  we 
wouldn't,  because  I  had  heard  say  there  warn't  but 
about  a  dozen  houses  there,  and  if  they  didn't  happen 
to  have  them  lit  up,  how  was  we  going  to  know  we 
was  passing  a  town?  Jim  said  if  the  two  big  rivers 
joined  together  there,  that  would  show.  But  I  said 
maybe  we  might  think  we  was  passing  the  foot  of 
an  island  and  coming  into  the  same  old  river  again. 
That  disturbed  Jim  —  and  me  too.  So  the  question 
was,  what  to  do  ?  I  said,  paddle  ashore  the  first  time 
a  light  showed,  and  tell  them  pap  was  behind,  coming 
along  with  a  trading-scow,  and  was  a  green  hand  at 


"7 

the  business,  and  wanted  to  know  how  far  it  was  to 
Cairo.  Jim  thought  it  was  a  good  idea,  so  we  took  a 
smoke  on  it  and  waited. 

There  warn't  nothing  to  do  now  but  to  look  out 
sharp  for  the  town,  and  not  pass  it  without  seeing  it. 
He  said  he'd  be  mighty  sure  to  see  it,  because  he'd  be 
a  free  man  the  minute  he  seen  it,  but  if  he  missed  it 
he'd  be  in  the  slave  country  again  and  no  more  show 
for  freedom.  Every  little  while  he  jumps  up  and 
says: 

"  Dah  she  is !" 

But  it  warn't.  It  was  Jack-o'-lanterns,  or  lightning- 
bugs  ;  so  he  set  down  again,  and  went  to  watching, 
same  as  before.  Jim  said  it  made  him  all  over  trembly 
and  feverish  to  be  so  close  to  freedom.  Well,  I  can 
tell  you  it  made  me  all  over  trembly  and  feverish,  too, 
to  hear  him,  because  I  begun  to  get  it  through  my 
head  that  he  was  most  free — and  who  was  to  blame 
for  it?  Why,  me.  I  couldn't  get  that  out  of  my 
conscience,  no  how  nor  no  way.  It  got  to  troubling 
me  so  I  couldn't  rest ;  I  couldn't  stay  still  in  one 
place.  It  hadn't  ever  come  home  to  me  before,  what 
this  thing  was  that  I  was  doing.  But  now  it  did  ;  and 
it  stayed  with  me,  and  scorched  me  more  and  more. 
I  tried  to  make  out  to  myself  that  7  warn't  to  blame, 
because  /didn't  run  Jim  off  from  his  rightful  owner; 
but  it  warn't  no  use,  conscience  up  and  says,  every 
time, "  But  you  knowed  he  was  running  for  his  free 
dom,  and  you  could  a  paddled  ashore  and  told  some 
body."  That  was  so — I  couldn't  get  around  that  no 
way.  That  was  where  it  pinched.  Conscience  says 
to  me,  "  What  had  poor  Miss  Watson  done  to  you 
that  you  could  see  her  nigger  go  off  right  under  your 


eyes  and  never  say  one  single  word  ?  What  did  that 
poor  old  woman  do  to  you  that  you  could  treat  her 
so  mean  ?  Why,  she  tried  to  learn  you  your  book, 
she  tried  to  learn  you  your  manners,  she  tried  to  be 
good  to  you  every  way  she  knowed  how.  That's 
what  she  done." 

I  got  to  feeling  so  mean  and  so  miserable  I  most 
wished  I  was  dead.  I  fidgeted  up  and  down  the  raft, 
abusing  myself  to  myself,  and  Jim  was  fidgeting  up 
and  down  past  me.  We  neither  of  us  could  keep  still. 
Every  time  he  danced  around  and  says,  "  Dah's  Cairo !" 
it  went  through  me  like  a  shot,  and  I  thought  if  it 
was  Cairo  I  reckoned  I  would  die  of  miserableness. 

Jim  talked  out  loud  all  the  time  while  I  was  talking 
to  myself.  He  was  saying  how  the  first  thing  he 
would  do  when  he  got  to  a  free  State  he  would  go  to 
saving  up  money  and  never  spend  a  single  cent,  and 
when  he  got  enough  he  would  buy  his  wife,  which  was 
owned  on  a  farm  close  to  where  Miss  Watson  lived ; 
and  then  they  would  both  work  to  buy  the  two  chil 
dren,  and  if  their  master  wouldn't  sell  them,  they'd 
get  an  Ab'litionist  to  go  and  steal  them. 

It  most  froze  me  to  hear  such  talk.  He  wouldn't 
ever  dared  to  talk  such  talk  in  his  life  before.  Just 
see  what  a  difference  it  made  in  him  the  minute  he 
judged  he  was  about  free.  It  was  according  to  the 
old  saying,  "  Give  a  nigger  an  inch  and  he'll  take  an 
ell."  Thinks  I,  this  is  what  comes  of  my  not  thinking. 
Here  was  this  nigger,  which  I  had  as  good  as  helped 
to  run  away,  coming  right  out  flat-footed  and  saying 
he  would  steal  his  children — children  that  belonged  to 
a  man  I  didn't  even  know;  a  man  that  hadn't  ever 
done  me  no  harm. 


I  was  sorry  to  hear  Jim  say  that,  it  was  such  a  low 
ering  of  him.  My  conscience  got  to  stirring  me  up 
hotter  than  ever,  until  at  last  I  says  to  it,  "  Let  up  on 
me — it  ain't  too  late  yet — I'll  paddle  ashore  at  the 
first  light  and  tell."  I  felt  easy  and  happy  and  light 
as  a  feather  right  off.  All  my  troubles  was  gone.  I 
went  to  looking  out  sharp  for  a  light,  and  sort  of  sing 
ing  to  myself.  By -and -by  one  showed.  Jim  sings 
out: 

"  We's  safe,  Huck,  we's  safe !  Jump  up  and  crack 
yo'  heels !  Dat's  de  good  ole  Cairo  at  las',  I  jis  knows 
it!" 

I  says : 

"I'll  take  the  canoe  and  go  see,  Jim.  It  mightn't 
be,  you  know." 

He  jumped  and  got  the  canoe  ready,  and  put  his 
old  coat  in  the  bottom  for  me  to  set  on,  and  give  me 
the  paddle  ;  and  as  I  shoved  off,  he  says : 

"  Pooty  soon  I'll  be  a-shout'n'  for  joy,  en  I'll  say, 
it's  all  on  accounts  o'  Huck ;  I's  a  free  man,  en  I 
couldn't  ever  ben  free  ef  it  hadn'  ben  for  Huck ;  Huck 
done  it.  Jim  won't  ever  forgit  you,  Huck;  you's  de 
bes'  fren'  Jim's  ever  had  ;  en  you's  de  only  fren'  ole 
Jim's  got  now." 

I  was  paddling  off,  all  in  a  sweat  to  tell  on  him  ;  but 
when  he  says  this,  it  seemed  to  kind  of  take  the  tuck 
all  out  of  me.  I  went  along  slow  then,  and  I  warn't 
right  down  certain  whether  I  was  glad  I  started  or 
whether  I  warn't.  When  I  was  fifty  yards  off,  Jim 
says: 

"  Dah  you  goes,  de  ole  true  Huck ;  de  on'y  white 
genlman  dat  ever  kep'  his  promise  to  ole  Jim." 

Well,  I  just  felt  sick.     But  I  says,  I  got  to  do  it — I 


120 


can't  get  out  of  it.  Right  then  along  comes  a  skiff 
with  two  men  in  it  with  guns,  and  they  stopped  and  I 
stopped.  One  of  them  says : 

"What's  that  yonder?" 

"A  piece  of  a  raft,"  I  says. 

"  Do  you  belong  on  it  ?" 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"Any  men  on  it?" 

"  Only  one,  sir." 

"  Well,  there's  five  niggers  run  off  to-night  up  yon 
der,  above  the  head  of  the  bend.  Is  your  man  white 
or  black  ?" 

I  didn't  answer  up  prompt.  I  tried  to,  but  the 
words  wouldn't  come.  I  tried  for  a  second  or  two  to 
brace  up  and  out  with  it,  but  I  warn't  man  enough — 
hadn't  the  spunk  of  a  rabbit.  I  see  I  was  weakening ; 
so  I  just  give  up  trying,  and  up  and  says: 

"  He's  white." 

"  I  reckon  we'll  go  and  see  for  ourselves." 

"  I  wish  you  would,"  says  I,  "  because  it's  pap  that's 
there,  and  maybe  you'd  help  me  tow  the  raft  ashore 
where  the  light  is.  He's  sick  —  and  so  is  mam  and 
Mary  Ann." 

"  Oh,  the  devil !  we're  in  a  hurry,  boy.  But  I  s'pose 
we've  got  to.  Come,  buckle  to  your  paddle,  and  let's 
get  along." 

I  buckled  to  my  paddle  and  they  laid  to  their  oars. 
When  we  had  made  a  stroke  or  two,  I  says : 

"  Pap  '11  be  mighty  much  obleeged  to  you,  I  can  tell 
you.  Everybody  goes  away  when  I  want  them  to  help 
me  tow  the  raft  ashore,  and  I  can't  do  it  by  myself." 

"  Well,  that's  infernal  mean.  Odd,  too.  Say,  boy, 
what's  the  matter  with  your  father?" 


121 


"  It's  the — a — the — well,  it  ain't  anything  much." 

They  stopped  pulling.  It  warn't  but  a  mighty  lit 
tle  ways  to  the  raft  now.  One  says : 

"  Boy/  that's  a  lie.  What  is  the  matter  with  your 
pap  ?  Answer  up  square  now,  and  it'll  be  the  better 
for  you." 

"  I  will,  sir,  I  will,  honest — but  don't  leave  us,  please. 
It's  the — the —  Gentlemen,  if  you'll  only  pull  ahead, 
and  let  me  heave  you  the  head-line,  you  won't  have  to 
come  a-near  the  raft — please  do." 

"  Set  her  back,  John,  set  her  back !"  says  one.  They 
backed  water.  "Keep  away,  boy  — keep  to  looard. 
Confound  it,  I  just  expect  the  wind  has  blowed  it  to 
us.  Your  pap's  got  the  small-pox,  and  you  know  it 
precious  well.  Why  didn't  you  come  out  and  say  so? 
Do  you  want  to  spread  it  all  over?" 

"  Well,"  says  I,  a-blubbering, "  I've  told  everybody 
before,  and  they  just  went  away  and  left  us." 

"  Poor  devil,  there's  something  in  that.  We  are 
right  down  sorry  for  you,  but  we  —  well,  hang  it,  we 
don't  want  the  small-pox,  you  see.  Look  here,  I'll  tell 
you  what  to  do.  Don't  you  try  to  land  by  yourself, 
or  you  11  smash  everything  to  pieces.  You  float  along 
down  about  twenty  miles,  and  you'll  come  to  a  town 
on  the  left-hand  side  of  the  river.  It  will  be  long 
after  sun-up  then,  and  when  you  ask  for  help  you  tell 
them  your  folks  are  all  down  with  chills  and  fever. 
Don't  be  a  fool  again,  and  let  people  guess  what  is  the 
matter.  Now  we're  trying  to  do  you  a  kindness ;  so 
you  just  put  twenty  miles  between  us,  that's  a  good 
boy.  It  wouldn't  do  any  good  to  land  yonder  where 
the  light  is  —  it's  only  a  wood -yard.  Say,  I  reckon 
your  father's  poor,  and  I'm  bound  to  say  he's  in  pret- 


122 


ty  hard  luck.  Here,  I'll  put  a  twenty -dollar  gold 
piece  on  this  board,  and  you  get  it  when  it  floats  by. 
I  feel  mighty  mean  to  leave  you  ;  but  my  kingdom  !  it 
won't  do  to  fool  with  small-pox,  don't  you  see?" 

"  Hold  on,  Parker,"  says  the  other  man,  "  here's  a 
twenty  to  put  on  the  board  for  me.  Good-bye,  boy ; 
you  do  as  Mr.  Parker  told  you,  and  you'll  be  all 
right." 

"  That's  so,  my  boy — good-bye,  good-bye.  If  you 
see  any  runaway  niggers  you  get  help  and  nab  them, 
and  you  can  make  some  money  by  it." 

"  Good-bye,  sir,"  says  I ;  "I  won't  let  no  runaway 
niggers  get  by  me  if  I  can  help  it." 

They  went  off  and  I  got  aboard  the  raft,  feeling 
bad  and  low,  because  I  knowed  very  well  I  had  done 
wrong,  and  I  see  it  warn't  no  use  for  me  to  try  to 
learn  to  do  right ;  a  body  that  don't  get  started  right 
when  he's  little  ain't  got  no  show — when  the  pinch 
comes  there  ain't  nothing  to  back  him  up  and  keep 
him  to  his  work,  and  so  he  gets  beat.  Then  I  thought 
a  minute,  and  says  to  myself,  hold  on ;  s'pose  you'd  a 
done  right  and  give  Jim  up,  would  you  felt  better 
than  what  you  do  now?  No, says  I,  I'd  feel  bad — I'd 
feel  just  the  same  way  I  do  now.  Well,  then,  says  I, 
what's  the  use  you  learning  to  do  right  when  it's  trou 
blesome  to  do  right  and  ain't  no  trouble  to  do  wrong, 
and  the  wages  is  just  the  same  ?  I  was  stuck.  I 
couldn't  answer  that.  So  I  reckoned  I  wouldn't  both 
er  no  more  about  it,  but  after  this  always  do  which 
ever  come  handiest  at  the  time. 

I  went  into  the  wigwam;  Jim  warn't  there.  I 
looked  all  around;  he  warn't  anywhere.  I  says: 

"Jim!" 


"3 

"  Here  I  is,  Huck.  Is  dey  out  o*  sight  yit?  Don't 
talk  loud." 

He  was  in  the  river  under  the  stern  oar,  with  just 
his  nose  out.  I  told  him  they  was  out  of  sight,  so  he 
come  aboard.  He  says : 

"  I  was  a-listenin*  to  all  de  talk,  en  I  slips  into  de 
river  en  was  gwyne  to  shove  for  sho*  if  dey  come 
aboard.  Den  I  was  gwyne  to  swim  to  de  raf  agin 
when  dey  was  gone.  But  lawsy,  how  you  did  fool 
'em,  Huck !  Dat  wuz  de  smartes'  dodge  !  I  tell  you, 
chile,  I'spec  it  save'  ole  Jim — ole  Jim  ain't  going  to 
forgit  you  for  dat,  honey." 

Then  we  talked  about  the  money.  It  was  a  pretty 
good  raise — twenty  dollars  apiece.  Jim  said  we  could 
take  deck  passage  on  a  steamboat  now,  and  the  money 
would  last  us  as  far  as  we  wanted  to  go  in  the  free 
states.  He  said  twenty  mile  more  warn't  far  for  the 
raft  to  go,  but  he  wished  we  was  already  there. 

Towards  daybreak  we  tied  up,  and  Jim  was  mighty 
particular  about  hiding  the  raft  good.  Then  he 
worked  all  day  fixing  things  in  bundles,  and  getting 
all  ready  to  quit  rafting. 

That  night  about  ten  we  hove  in  sight  of  the  lights 
of  a  town  away  down  in  a  left-hand  bend. 

I  went  off  in  the  canoe  to  ask  about  it.  Pretty  soon 
I  found  a  man  out  in  the  river  with  a  skiff,  setting  a 
trot-line.  I  ranged  up  and  says: 

"  Mister,  is  that  town  Cairo?" 

"  Cairo  ?  no.     You  must  be  a  blame*  fool." 

"  What  town  is  it,  mister?" 

"If  you  want  to  know,  go  and  find  out.  If  you 
stay  here  botherin'  around  me  for  about  a  half  a  min 
ute  longer  you'll  get  something  you  won't  want." 


124 

1  paddled  to  the  raft.  Jim  was  awful  disappointed, 
but  I  said  never  mind,  Cairo  would  be  the  next  place, 
I  reckoned. 

We  passed  another  town  before  daylight,  and  I  was 
going  out  again  ;  but  it  was  high  ground,  so  I  didn't 
go.  No  high  ground  about  Cairo,  Jim  said.  I  had 
forgot  it.  We  laid  up  for  the  day  on  a  tow-head  tol 
erable  close  to  the  left-hand  bank.  I  begun  to  suspi 
cion  something.  So  did  Jim.  I  says: 

"  Maybe  we  went  by  Cairo  in  the  fog  that  night." 

He  says: 

"  Doan'  le's  talk  about  it,  Huck.  Po'  niggers  can't 
have  no  luck.  I  awluz  'spected  dat  rattlesnake-skin 
warn't  done  wid  its  work." 

"  I  wish  I'd  never  seen  that  snake-skin,  Jim — I  do 
wish  I'd  never  laid  eyes  on  it." 

"It  ain't  yo'  fault,  Huck;  you  didn'  know.  Don't 
you  blame  yo'self  'bout  it." 

When  it  was  daylight,  here  was  the  clear  Ohio 
water  inshore,  sure  enough,  and  outside  was  the  old 
regular  Muddy !  So  it  was  all  up  with  Cairo. 

We  talked  it  all  over.  It  wouldn't  do  to  take  to 
the  shore;  we  couldn't  take  the  raft  up  the  stream, 
of  course.  There  warn't  no  way  but  to  wait  for  dark, 
and  start  back  in  the  canoe  and  take  the  chances. 
So  we  slept  all  day  amongst  the  cotton-wood  thicket, 
so  as  to  be  fresh  for  the  work,  and  when  we  went  back 
to  the  raft  about  dark  the  canoe  was  gone ! 

We  didn't  say  a  word  for  a  good  while.  There 
warn't  anything  to  say.  We  both  knowed  well 
enough  it  was  some  more  work  of  the  rattlesnake- 
skin  ;  so  what  was  the  use  to  talk  about  it  ?  It  would 
only  look  like  we  was  rinding  fault,  and  that  would  be 


»s 

bound  to  fetch  more  bad  luck — and  keep  on  fetching 
it,  too,  till  we  knowed  enough  to  keep  still. 

By-and-by  we  talked  about  what  we  better  do,  and 
found  there  warn't  no  way  but  just  to  go  along  down 
with  the  raft  till  we  got  a  chance  to  buy  a  canoe  to 
go  back  in.  We  warn't  going  to  borrow  it  when  there 
warn't  anybody  around,  the  way  pap  would  do,  for 
that  might  set  people  after  us. 

So  we  shoved  out  after  dark  on  the  raft. 

Anybody  that  don't  believe  yet  that  it's  foolishness 
to  handle  a  snake-skin,  after  all  that  that  snake-skin 
done  for  us,  will  believe  it  now  if  they  read  on  and 
see  what  more  it  done  for  us. 

The  place  to  buy  canoes  is  off  of  rafts  laying  up 
at  shore.  But  we  didn't  see  no  rafts  laying  up  ;  so  we 
went  along  during  three  hours  and  more.  Well,  the 
night  got  gray  and  ruther  thick,  which  is  the  next 
meanest  thing  to  fog.  You  can't  tell  the  shape  of  the 
river,  and  you  can't  see  no  distance.  It  got  to  be 
very  late  and  still,  and  then  along  comes  a  steamboat 
up  the  river.  We  lit  the  lantern,  and  judged  she 
would  see  it.  Up-stream  boats  didn't  generly  come 
close  to  us ;  they  go  out  and  follow  the  bars  and  hunt 
for  easy  water  under  the  reefs ;  but  nights  like  this 
they  bull  right  up  the  channel  against  the  whole  river. 

We  could  hear  her  pounding  along,  but  we  didn't 
see  her  good  till  she  was  close.  She  aimed  right  for 
us.  Often  they  do  that  and  try  to  see  how  close  they 
can  come  without  touching;  sometimes  the  wheel 
bites  off  a  sweep,  and  then  the  pilot  sticks  his  head 
out  and  laughs,  and  thinks  he's  mighty  smart.  Well, 
here  she  comes,  and  we  said  she  was  going  to  try  and 
shave  us;  but  she  didn't  seem  to  be  sheering  off  a 


126 


bit.  She  was  a  big  one,  and  she  was  coming  in  a 
hurry,  too,  looking  like  a  black  cloud  with  rows  of 
glowworms  around  it ;  but  all  of  a  sudden  she  bulged 
out,  big  and  scary,  with  a  long  row  of  wide-open  fur 
nace  doors  shining  like  red-hot  teeth,  and  her  mon 
strous  bows  and  guards  hanging  right  over  us.  There 
was  a  yell  at  us,  and  a  jingling  of  bells  to  stop  the 
engines,  a  powwow  of  cussing,  and  whistling  of  steam 
— and  as  Jim  went  overboard  on  one  side  and  I  on 
the  other,  she  come  smashing  straight  through  the 
raft. 

I  dived — and  I  aimed  to  find  the  bottom,  too,  for 
a  thirty -foot  wheel  had  got  to  go  over  me,  and  I 
wanted  it  to  have  plenty  of  room.  I  could  always 
stay  underwater  a  minute;  this  time  I  reckon  I  stayed 
under  a  minute  and  a  half.  Then  I  bounced  for  the 
top  in  a  hurry,  for  I  was  nearly  busting.  I  popped 
out  to  my  arm-pits  and  blowed  the  water  out  of  my 
nose,  and  puffed  a  bit.  Of  course  there  was  a  boom 
ing  current;  and  of  course  that  boat  started  her 
engines  again  ten  seconds  after  she  stopped  them, 
for  they  never  cared  much  for  raftsmen  ;  so  now  she 
was  churning  along  up  the  river,  out  of  sight  in  the 
thick  weather,  though  I  could  hear  her. 

I  sung  out  for  Jim  about  a  dozen  times,  but  I 
didn't  get  any  answer ;  so  I  grabbed  a  plank  that 
touched  me  while  I  was  "  treading  water,"  and  struck 
out  for  shore,  shoving  it  ahead  of  me.  But  I  made 
out  to  see  that  the  drift  of  the  current  was  towards 
the  left-hand  shore,  which  meant  that  I  was  in  a  cross 
ing  ;  so  I  changed  off  and  went  that  way. 

It  was  one  of  these  long,  slanting,  two-mile  cross 
ings;  so  I  was  a  good  long  time  in  getting  over.  I 


127 

made  a  safe  landing,  and  clum  up  the  bank.  I  couldn't 
see  but  a  little  ways,  but  I  went  poking  along  over 
rough  ground  for  a  quarter  of  a  mile  or  more,  and 
then  I  run  across  a  big  old-fashioned  double  log-house 
before  I  noticed  it.  I  was  going  to  rush  by  and  get 
away,  but  a  lot  of  dogs  jumped  out  and  went  to 
howling  and  barking  at  me,  and  I  knowed  better  than 
to  move  another  peg.. 


CHAPTER  XVIi 

IN  about  a  minute  somebody  spoke  out  of  a  win 
dow  without  putting  his  head  out,  and  says : 

"  Be  done,  boys !     Who's  there  ?" 

I  says : 

"  It's  me." 

"Who's  me?" 

"  George  Jackson,  sir." 

"What  do  you  want?'* 

"  I  don't  want  nothing,  sir.  I  only  want  to  go  along 
by,  but  the  dogs  won't  let  me." 

"  What  are  you  prowling  around  here  this  time  of 
night  for — hey  ?" 

"  I  warn't  prowling  around,  sir ;  I  fell  overboard  off 
of  the  steamboat." 

"  Oh,  you  did,  did  you  ?  Strike  a  light  there,  some 
body.  What  did  you  say  your  name  was  ?" 

"George  Jackson,  sir.     I'm  only  a  boy." 

"  Look  here,  if  you're  telling  the  truth  you  needn't 
be  afraid  —  nobody  '11  hurt  you.  But  don't  try  to 
budge ;  stand  right  where  you  are.  Rouse  out  Bob 
and  Tom,  some  of  you,  and  fetch  the  guns.  George 
Jackson,  is  there  anybody  with  you  ?" 

"  No,  sir,  nobody." 

I  heard  the  people  stirring  around  in  the  house 
now,  and  see  a  light.  The  man  sung  out : 

"  Snatch  that  light  away,  Betsy,  you  old  fool — ain't 


129 

you  got  any  sense?  Put  it  on  the  floor  behind  the 
front  door.  Bob,  if  you  and  Tom  are  ready,  take 
your  places." 

"  All  ready." 

"  Now,  George  Jackson,  do  you  know  the  Shepherd- 
sons?" 

"  No,  sir;  I  never  heard  of  them." 

"  Well,  that  may  be  so,  and  it  mayn't.  Now,  all 
ready.  Step  forward,  George  Jackson.  And  mind, 
don't  you  hurry — come  mighty  slow.  If  there's  any 
body  with  you,  let  him  keep  back — if  he  shows  him, 
self  he'll  be  shot.  Come  along  now.  Come  slow; 
push  the  door  open  yourself — just  enough  to  squeeze 
in,  d'  you  hear?" 

I  didn't  hurry ;  I  couldn't  if  I'd  a  wanted  to.  I  took 
one  slow  step  at  a  time  and  there  warn't  a  sound, 
only  I  thought  I  could  hear  my  heart.  The  dogs 
were  as  still  as  the  humans,  but  they  followed  a  little 
behind  me.  When  I  got  to  the  three  log  door-steps 
I  heard  them  unlocking  and  unbarring  and  unbolting. 
I  put  my  hand  on  the  door  and  pushed  it  a  little  and 
a  little  more  till  somebody  said, "  There,  that's  enough 
— put  your  head  in."  I  done  it,  but  I  judged  they 
would  take  it  off. 

The  candle  was  on  the  floor,  and  there  they  all  was, 
looking  at  me,  and  me  at  them,  for  about  a  quarter  of 
a  minute :  Three  big  men  with  guns  pointed  at  me, 
which  made  me  wince,  I  tell  you  ;  the  oldest,  gray  and 
about  sixty,  the  other  two  thirty  or  more — all  of  them 
fine  and  handsome — and  the  sweetest  old  gray-headed 
lady,  and  back  of  her  two  young  women  which  I 
couldn't  see  right  well.  The  old  gentleman  says : 

"  There  ;  I  reckon  it's  all  right.     Come  in." 

9HF 


1 3o 

As  soon  as  I  was  in  the  old  gentleman  he  locked 
the  door  and  barred  it  and  bolted  it,  and  told  the 
young  men  to  come  in  with  their  guns,  and  they  all 
went  in  a  big  parlor  that  had  a  new  rag  carpet  on  the 
floor,  and  got  together  in  a  corner  that  was  out  of 
range  of  the  front  windows — there  warn't  none  on 
the  side.  They  held  the  candle,  and  took  a  good 
look  at  me,  and  all  said,  "  Why,  he  ain't  a  Shepherdson 
— no,  there  ain't  any  Shepherdson  about  him."  Then 
the  old  man  said  he  hoped  I  wouldn't  mind  being 
searched  for  arms,  because  he  didn't  mean  no  harm 
by  it — it  was  only  to  make  sure.  So  he  didn't  pry 
into  my  pockets,  but  only  felt  outside  with  his  hands, 
and  said  it  was  all  right.  He  told  me  to  make  myself 
easy  and  at  home,  and  tell  all  about  myself ;  but  the 
old  lady  says  : 

"  Why,  bless  you,  Saul,  the  poor  thing's  as  wet  as 
he  can  be ;  and  don't  you  reckon  it  may  be  he's 
hungry  ?" 

"  True  for  you,  Rachel — I  forgot." 

So  the  old  lady  says: 

"  Betsy  "  (this  was  a  nigger  woman),  "  you  fly  around 
and  get  him  something  to  eat  as  quick  as  you  can, 
poor  thing ;  and  one  of  you  girls  go  and  wake  up 
Buck  and  tell  him — oh,  here  he  is  himself.  Buck,  take 
this  little  stranger  and  get  the  wet  clothes  off  from 
him  and  dress  him  up  in  some  of  yours  that's  dry." 

Buck  looked  about  as  old  as  me — thirteen  or  four 
teen  or  along  there,  though  he  was  a  little  bigger 
than  me.  He  hadn't  on  anything  but  a  shirt,  and  he 
was  very  frowzy-headed.  He  came  in  gaping  and 
digging  one  fist  into  his  eyes,  and  he  was  dragging  a 
gun  along  with  the  other  one.  He  says : 


"Ain't  they  no  Shepherdsons  around?" 

They  said,  no,  'twas  a  false  alarm. 

"Well,"  he  says,  "if  they'd  a  ben  some,  I  reckon 
I'd  a  got  one." 

They  all  laughed,  and  Bob  says : 

"  Why,  Buck,  they  might  have  scalped  us  all, 
you've  been  so  slow  in  coming." 

"Well,  nobody  come  after  me,  and  it  ain't  right. 
I'm  always  kep'  down ;  I  don't  get  no  show." 

"  Never  mind,  Buck,  my  boy,"  says  the  old  man, 
"you'll  have  show  enough,  all  in  good  time,  don't 
you  fret  about  that.  Go  'long  with  you  now,  and  do 
as  your  mother  told  you." 

When  we  got  up-stairs  to  his  room  he  got  me  a 
coarse  shirt  and  a  round-about  and  pants  of  his,  and 
I  put  them  on.  While  I  was  at  it  he  asked  me  what 
my  name  was,  but  before  I  could  tell  him  he  started 
to  tell  me  about  a  blue-jay  and  a  young  rabbit  he  had 
catched  in  the  woods  day  before  yesterday,  and  he 
asked  me  where  Moses  was  when  the  candle  went 
out.  I  said  I  didn't  know ;  I  hadn't  heard  about  it 
before,  no  way. 

"  Well,  guess,"  he  says. 

"  How'm  I  going  to  guess,"  says  I,  "when  I  never 
heard  tell  of  it  before?" 

"  But  you  can  guess,  can't  you  ?     It's  just  as  easy." 

"  Which  candle  ?"  I  says. 

"  Why,  any  candle,"  he  says. 

"  I  don't  know  where  he  was,"  says  I ;  "  where  was 
he?" 

"  Why,  he  was  in  the  dark  !     That's  where  he  was !" 

"  Well,  if  you  knowed  where  he  was,  what  did  you 
ask  me  for?" 


13* 

"  Why,  blame  it,  it's  a  riddle,  don't  you  see?  Say, 
how  long  are  you  going  to  stay  here?  You  got  to 
stay  always.  We  can  just  have  booming  times — they 
don't  have  no  school  now  Do  you  own  a  dog? 
I've  got  a  dog — and  he'll  go  in  the  river  and  bring 
out  chips  that  you  throw  in.  Do  you  like  to  comb 
up  Sundays,  and  all  that  kind  of  foolishness?  You 
bet  I  don't,  but  ma  she  makes  me.  Confound  these 
ole  britches !  I  reckon  I'd  better  pyt  'em  on,  but  I'd 
ruther  not,  it's  so  warm.  Are  you  all  ready  ?  All 
right.  Come  along,  old  hoss." 

Cold  corn-pone,  cold  corn-beef,  butter  and  butter 
milk — that  is  what  they  had  for  me  down  there,  and 
there  ain't  nothing  better  that  ever  I've  come  across 
yet.  Buck  and  his  ma  and  all  of  them  smoked  cob  pipes, 
except  the  nigger  woman,  which  was  gone,  and  the  two 
young  women.  They  all  smoked  and  talked,  and  I 
eat  and  talked.  The  young  women  had  quilts  around 
them,  and  their  hair  down  their  backs.  They  all 
asked  me  questions,  and  I  told  them  how  pap  and  me 
and  all  the  family  was  living  on  a  little  farm  down  at 
the  bottom  of  Arkansaw,  and  my  sister  Mary  Ann 
run  off  and  got  married  and  never  was  heard  of  no 
more,  and  Bill  went  to  hunt  them  and  he  warn't  heard 
of  no  more,  and  Tom  and  Mort  died,  and  then  there 
warn't  nobody  but  just  me  and  pap  left,  and  he  was  just 
trimmed  down  to  nothing,  on  account  of  his  troubles; 
so  when  he  died  I  took  what  there  was  left,  because 
the  farm  didn't  belong  to  us,  and  started  up  the  river, 
deck  passage,  and  fell  overboard  ;  and  that  was  how 
I  come  to  be  here.  So  they  said  I  could  have  a  home 
there  as  long  as  I  wanted  it.  Then  it  was  most  day 
light  and  everybody  went  to  bed,  and  I  went  to  bed 


with  Buck,  and  when  I  waked  up  in  the  morning, 
drat  it  all,  I  had  forgot  what  my  name  was.  So  I 
laid  there  about  an  hour  trying  to  think,  and  when 
Buck  waked  up  I  says : 

"  Can  you  spell,  Buck  ?" 

"  Yes,"  he  says. 

"  I  bet  you  can't  spell  my  name,"  says  I. 

"  I  bet  you  what  you  dare  I  can,"  says  he. 

"All  right,"  says  I,  "go  ahead." 

"  G-e-o-r-g-e  J-a-x-o-n — there  now,"  he  says. 

"  Well,"  says  I,  "  you  done  it,  but  I  didn't  think 
you  could.  It  ain't  no  slouch  of  a  name  to  spell — 
right  off  without  studying." 

I  set  it  down,  private,  because  somebody  might 
want  me  to  spell  it  next,  and  so  I  wanted  to  be 
handy  with  it  and  rattle  it  off  like  I  was  used 
to  it. 

It  was  a  mighty  nice  family,  and  a  mighty  nice 
house,  too.  I  hadn't  seen  no  house  out  in  the  coun 
try  before  that  was  so  nice  and  had  so  much  style. 
It  didn't  have  an  iron  latch  on  the  front  door,  nor  a 
wooden  one  with  a  buckskin  string,  but  a  brass  knob 
to  turn,  the  same  as  houses  in  a  town.  There  warn't 
no  bed  in  the  parlor,  nor  a  sign  of  a  bed ;  but  heaps 
of  parlors  in  towns  has  beds  in  them.  There  was  a 
big  fireplace  that  was  bricked  on  the  bottom,  and  the 
bricks  was  kept  clean  and  red  by  pouring  water  on 
them  and  scrubbing  them  with  another  brick ;  some 
times  they  wash  them  over  with  red  water-paint  that 
they  call  Spanish-brown,  same  as  they  do  in  town. 
They  had  big  brass  dog-irons  that  could  hold  up  a  saw- 
log.  There  was  a  clock  on  the  middle  of  the  mantel 
piece,  with  a  picture  of  a  town  painted  on  the  bottom 


134 

half  of  the  glass  front,  and  a  round  place  in  the  middle 
of  it  for  the  sun,  and  you  could  see  the  pendulum 
swinging  behind  it.  It  was  beautiful  to  hear  that 
clock  tick  ;  and  sometimes  when  one  of  these  peddlers 
had  been  along  and  scoured  her  up  and  got  her  in 
good  shape,  she  would  start  in  and  strike  a  hundred 
and  fifty  before  she  got  tuckered  out.  They  wouldn't 
took  any  money  for  her. 

Well,  there  was  a  big  outlandish  parrot  on  each 
side  of  the  clock,  made  out  of  something  like  chalk, 
and  painted  up  gaudy.  By  one  of  the  parrots  was  a 
cat  made  of  crockery,  and  a  crockery  dog  by  the  other ; 
and  when  you  pressed  down  on  them  they  squeaked, 
but  didn't  open  their  mouths  nor  look  different 
nor  interested.  They  squeaked  through  underneath. 
There  was  a  couple  of  big  wild -turkey -wing  fans 
spread  out  behind  those  things.  On  the  table  in  the 
middle  of  the  room  was  a  kind  of  a  lovely  crock 
ery  basket  that  had  apples  and  oranges  and  peaches 
and  grapes  piled  up  in  it,  which  was  much  redder 
and  yellower  and  prettier  than  real  ones  is,  but  they 
warn't  real  because  you  could  see  where  pieces  had 
got  chipped  off  and  showed  the  white  chalk,  or  what 
ever  it  was,  underneath. 

This  table  had  a  cover  made  out  of  beautiful  oil 
cloth,  with  a  red  and  blue  spread-eagle  painted  on  it, 
and  a  painted  border  all  around.  It  come  all  the  way 
from  Philadelphia,  they  said.  There  was  some  books, 
too,  piled  up  perfectly  exact,  on  each  corner  of  the 
table.  One  was  a  big  family  Bible  full  of  pictures. 
One  was  Pilgrims  Progress,  about  a  man  that  left  his 
family,  it  didn't  say  why.  I  read  considerable  in  it 
now  and  then.  The  statements  was  interesting,  but 


135 

tough.  Another  was  Friendship's  Offering,  full  of 
beautiful  stuff  and  poetry ;  but  I  didn't  read  the 
poetry.  Another  was  Henry  Clay's  Speeches,  and 
another  was  Dr.  Gunn's  Family  Medicine,  which  told 
you  all  about  what  to  do  if  a  body  was  sick  or  dead. 
There  was  a 'hymn-book,  and  a  lot  of  other  books. 
And  there  was  nice  split-bottom  chairs,  and  perfect 
ly  sound,  too — not  bagged  down  in  the  middle  and 
busted,  like  an  old  basket. 

They  had  pictures  hung  on  the  walls — mainly  Wash- 
ingtons  and  Lafayettes,  and  battles,  and  Highland 
Marys,  and  one  called  "  Signing  the  Declaration." 
There  was  some  that  they  called  crayons,  which  one 
of  the  daughters  which  was  dead  made  her  own  self 
when  she  was  only  fifteen  years  old.  They  was  dif 
ferent  from  any  pictures  I  ever  see  before — blacker, 
mostly,  than  is  common.  One  was  a  woman  in  a 
slim  black  dress,  belted  small  under  the  armpits,  with 
bulges  like  a  cabbage  in  the  middle  of  the  sleeves, 
and  a  large  black  scoop-shovel  bonnet  with  a  black 
veil,  and  white  slim  ankles  crossed  about  with  black 
tape,  and  very  wee  black  slippers,  like  a  chisel,  and 
she  was  leaning  pensive  on  a  tombstone  on  her  right 
elbow,  under  a  weeping  willow,  and  her  other  hand 
hanging  down  her  side  holding  a  white  handkerchief 
and  a  reticule,  and  underneath  the  picture  it  said 
"  Shall  I  Never  See  Thee  More  Alas."  Another  one 
was  a  young  lady  with  her  hair  all  combed  up  straight 
to  the  top  of  her  head,  and  knotted  there  in  front  of 
a  comb  like  a  chair-back,  and  she  was  crying  into  a 
handkerchief  and  had  a  dead  bird  laying  on  its  back 
in  her  other  hand  with  its  heels  up,  and  underneath 
the  picture  it  said  "  I  Shall  Never  Hear  Thy  Sweet 


136 

Chirrup  More  Alas."  There  was  one  where  a  young 
lady  was  at  a  window  looking  up  at  the  moon,  and 
tears  running  down  her  cheeks ;  and  she  had  an  open 
letter  in  one  hand  with  black  sealing-wax  showing  on 
one  edge  of  it,  and  she  was  mashing  a  locket  with  a 
chain  to  it  against  her  mouth,  and  underneath  the 
picture  it  said  "And  Art  Thou  Gone  Yes  Thou  Art 
Gone  Alas."  These  was  all  nice  pictures,  1  reckon, 
but  I  didn't  somehow  seem  to  take  to  them,  because 
if  ever  I  was  down  a  little  they  always  give  me  the 
fan-tods.  Everybody  was  sorry  she  died,  because  she 
had  laid  out  a  lot  more  of  these  pictures  to  do,  and  a 
body  could  see  by  what  she  had  done  what  they  had 
lost.  But  I  reckoned  that  with  her  disposition  she 
was  having  a  better  time  in  the  graveyard.  She  was 
at  work  on  what  they  said  was  her  greatest  picture 
when  she  took  sick,  and  every  day  and  every  night  it 
was  her  prayer  to  be  allowed  to  live  till  she  got  it 
done,  but  she  never  got  the  chance.  It  was  a  picture 
of  a  young  woman  in  a  long  white  gown,  standing 
on  the  rail  of  a  bridge  all  ready  to  jump  off,  with 
her  hair  all  down  her  back,  and  looking  up  to  the 
moon,  with  the  tears  running  down  her  face,  and  she 
had  two  arms  folded  across  her  breast,  and  two  arms 
stretched  out  in  front,  and  two  more  reaching  up  tow 
ards  the  moon — and  the  idea  was  to  see  which  pair 
would  look  best,  and  then  scratch  out  all  the  other 
arms ;  but,  as  I  was  saying,  she  died  before  she  got 
her  mind  made  up,  and  now  they  kept  this  picture 
over  the  head  of  the  bed  in  her  room,  and  every  time 
her  birthday  come  they  hung  flowers  on  it.  Other 
times  it  was  hid  with  a  little  curtain.  The  young 
woman  in  the  picture  had  a  kind  of  a  nice  sweet  face, 


137 

but  there  was  so  many  arms  it  made  her  look  too 
spidery,  seemed  to  me. 

This  young  girl  kept  a  scrap-book  when  she  was 
alive,  and  used  to  paste  obituaries  and  accidents  and 
cases  of  patient  suffering  in  it  out  of  the  Presbyterian 
Observer,  and  write  poetry  after  them  out  of  her  own 
head.  It  was  very  good  poetry.  This  is  what  she 
wrote  about  a  boy  by  the  name  of  Stephen  Bowling 
Dots  that  fell  down  a  well  and  was  drownded : 

ODE  TO  STEPHEN  BOWLING  BOTS,  DEC'D 

And  did  young  Stephen  sicken, 

And  did  young  Stephen  die? 
And  did  the  sad  hearts  thicken, 

And  did  the  mourners  cry  ? 

No;  such  was  not  the  fate  of 
Young  Stephen  Dowling  Bots ; 

Though  sad  hearts  round  him  thickened, 
Twas  not  from  sickness'  shots. 

No  whooping-cough  did  rack  his  frame, 
Nor  measles  drear,  with  spots; 

Not  these  impaired  the  sacred  name 
Of  Stephen  Dowling  Bots. 

Despised  love  struck  not  with  woe 

That  head  of  curly  knots, 
Nor  stomach  troubles  laid  him  low, 

Young  Stephen  Dowling  Bots. 

O  no.    Then  list  with  tearful  eye, 

Whilst  I  his  fate  do  tell. 
His  soul  did  from  this  cold  world  fly 

By  falling  down  a  well. 


They  got  him  out  and  emptied  him; 

Alas  it  was  too  late ; 
His  spirit  was  gone  for  to  sport  aloft 

In  the  realms  of  the  good  and  great. 

If  Emmeline  Grangerford  could  make  poetry  like 
that  before  she  was  fourteen,  there  ain't  no  telling 
what  she  could  a  done  by-and-by.  Buck  said  she 
could  rattle  off  poetry  like  nothing.  She  didn't  ever 
have  to  stop  to  think.  He  said  she  would  slap  down 
a  line,  and  if  she  couldn't  find  anything  to  rhyme 
with  it  she  would  just  scratch  it  out  and  slap  down 
another  one,  and  go  ahead.  She  warn't  particular ; 
she  could  write  about  anything  you  choose  to  give 
her  to  write  about  just  so  it  was  sadful.  Every  time 
a  man  died,  or  a  woman  died,  or  a  child  died,  she 
would  be  on  hand  with  her  "  tribute  "  before  he  was 
cold.  She  called  them  tributes.  The  neighbors  said 
it  was  the  doctor  first,  then  Emmeline,  then  the  un 
dertaker — the  undertaker  never  got  in  ahead  of  Em 
meline  but  once,  and  then  she  hung  fire  on  a  rhyme 
for  the  dead  person's  name,  which  was  Whistler.  She 
warn't  ever  the  same  after  that ;  she  never  com 
plained,  but  she  kind  of  pined  away  and  did  not  live 
long.  Poor  thing,  many's  the  time  I  made  myself  go 
up  to  the  little  room  that  used  to  be  hers  and  get 
out  her  poor  old  scrap-book  and  read  in  it  when  her 
pictures  had  been  aggravating  me  and  I  had  soured 
on  her  a  little.  I  liked  all  that  family,  dead  ones  and 
all,  and  warn't  going  to  let  anything  come  between 
us.  Poor  Emmeline  made  poetry  about  all  the  dead 
people  when  she  was  alive,  and  it  didn't  seem  right 
that  there  warn't  nobody  to  make  some  about  her 


139 

now  she  was  gone ;  so  I  tried  to  sweat  out  a  verse  or 
two  myself,  but  I  couldn't  seem  to  make  it  go  some 
how.  They  kept  Emmeline's  room  trim  and  nice, 
and  all  the  things  fixed  in  it  just  the  way  she  liked  to 
have  them  when  she  was  alive,  and  nobody  ever  slept 
there.  The  old  lady  took  care  of  the  room  herself, 
though  there  was  plenty  of  niggers,  and  she  sewed 
there  a  good  deal  and  read  her  Bible  there  mostly. 

Well,  as  I  was  saying  about  the  parlor,  there  was 
beautiful  curtains  on  the  windows :  white,  with  pict 
ures  painted  on  them  of  castles  with  vines  all  down 
the  walls,  and  cattle  coming  down  to  drink.  There 
was  a  little  old  piano,  too,  that  had  tin  pans  in  it,  I 
reckon,  and  nothing  was  ever  so  lovely  as  to  hear  the 
young  ladies  sing  "  The  Last  Link  is  Broken  "  and 
play  "  The  Battle  of  Prague  "  on  it.  The  walls  of  all 
the  rooms  was  plastered,  and  most  had  carpets  on 
the  floors,  and  the  whole  house  was  whitewashed  on 
the  outside. 

It  was  a  double  house,  and  the  big  open  place  be 
twixt  them  was  roofed  and  floored,  and  sometimes 
the  table  was  set  there  in  the  middle  of  the  day,  and 
it  was  a  cool,  comfortable  place.  Nothing  couldn't 
be  better.  And  warn't  the  cooking  good,  and  just 
bushels  of  it  too  ! 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

COL.  GRANGERFORD  was  a  gentleman,  you  see.  He 
was  a  gentleman  all  over  ;  and  so  was  his  family.  He 
was  well  born,  as  the  saying  is,  and  that's  worth  as 
much  in  a  man  as  it  is  in  a  horse,  so  the  Widow  Doug 
las  said,  and  nobody  ever  denied  that  she  was  of  the 
first  aristocracy  in  our  town ;  and  pap  he  always  said 
it,  too,  though  he  warn't  no  more  quality  than  a  mud- 
cat  himself.  Col.  Grangerford  was  very  tall  and  very 
slim,  and  had  a  darkish -paly  complexion,  not  a  sign 
of  red  in  it  anywheres  -,  he  was  clean  shaved  every 
morning  all  over  his  thin  face,  and  he  had  the  thin 
nest  kind  of  lips,  and  the  thinnest  kind  of  nostrils,  and 
a  high  nose,  and  heavy  eyebrows,  and  the  blackest 
kind  of  eyes,  sunk  so  deep  back  that  they  seemed 
like  they  was  looking  out  of  caverns  at  you,  as  you 
may  say.  His  forehead  was  high,  and  his  hair  was 
black  and  straight  and  hung  to  his  shoulders.  His 
hands  was  long  and  thin,  and  every  day  of  his  life 
he  put  on  a  clean  shirt  and  a  full  suit  from  head  to 
foot  made  out  of  linen  so  white  it  hurt  your  eyes  to 
look  at  it ;  and  on  Sundays  he  wore  a  blue  tail-coat 
with  brass  buttons  on  it.  He  carried  a  mahogany 
cane  with  a  silver  head  to  it.  There  warn't  no  friv- 
olishness  about  him,  not  a  bit,  and  he  warn't  ever 
loud.  He  was  as  kind  as  he  could  be — you  could  feel 
that,  you  know,  and  so  you  had  confidence.  Some- 


times  he  smiled,  and  it  was  good  to  see ;  but  when  he 
straightened  himself  up  like  a  liberty -pole,  and  the 
lightning  begun  to  flicker  out  from  under  his  eye 
brows  you  wanted  to  climb  a  tree  first,  and  find  out 
what  the  matter  was  afterwards.  He  didn't  ever  have 
to  tell  anybody  to  mind  their  manners  —  everybody 
was  always  good  -  mannered  where  he  was.  Every 
body  loved  to  have  him  around,  too  ;  he  was  sunshine 
most  always  —  I  mean  he  made  it  seem  like  good 
weather.  When  he  turned  into  a  cloud-bank  it  was 
awful  dark  for  a  half  a  minute,  and  that  was  enough; 
there  wouldn't  nothing  go  wrong  again  for  a  week. 

When  him  and  the  old  lady  come  down  in  the 
morning  all  the  family  got  up  out  of  their  chairs  and 
give  them  good -day,  and  didn't  set  down  again  till 
they  had  set  down.  Then  Tom  and  Bob  went  to  the 
sideboard  where  the  decanter  was,  and  mixed  a  glass 
of  bitters  and  handed  it  to  him,  and  he  held  it  in  his 
hand  and  waited  till  Tom's  and  Bob's  was  mixed,  and 
then  they  bowed  and  said,  "  Our  duty  to  you,  sir,  and 
madam  ;"  and  they  bowed  the  least  bit  in  the  world 
and  said  thank  you,  and  so  they  drank,  all  three,  and 
Bob  and  Tom  poured  a  spoonful  of  water  on  the 
sugar  and  the  mite  of  whiskey  or  apple-brandy  in  the 
bottom  of  their  tumblers,  and  give  it  to  me  and  Buck, 
and  we  drank  to  the  old  people  too. 

Bob  was  the  oldest  and  Tom  next — tall,  beautiful 
men  with  very  broad  shoulders  and  brown  faces,  and 
long  black  hair  and  black  eyes.  They  dressed  in 
white  linen  from  head  to  foot,  like  the  old  gentleman, 
and  wore  broad  Panama  hats. 

Then  there  was  Miss  Charlotte  ;  she  was  twenty-five, 
and  tall  and  proud  and  grand,  but  as  good  as  she 


142 

could  be  when  she  warn't  stirred  up ;  but  when  she 
was  she  had  a  look  that  would  make  you  wilt  in  your 
tracks,  like  her  father.  She  was  beautiful. 

So  was  her  sister,  Miss  Sophia,  but  it  was  a  differ 
ent  kind.  She  was  gentle  and  sweet  like  a  dove,  and 
she  was  only  twenty. 

Each  person  had  their  own  nigger  to  wait  on  them 
— Buck  too.  My  nigger  had  a  monstrous  easy  time, 
because  I  warn't  used  to  having  anybody  do  anything 
for  me,  but  Buck's  was  on  the  jump  most  of  the 
time. 

This  was  all  there  was  of  the  family  now,  but  there 
used  to  be  more — three  sons;  they  got  killed;  and 
Emmeline  that  died. 

The  old  gentleman  owned  a  lot  of  farms  and  over 
a  hundred  niggers.  Sometimes  a  sfack  of  people 
would  come  there,  horseback,  from  ten  or  fifteen  mile 
around,  and  stay  five  or  six  days,  and  have  such  junk 
etings  round  about  and  on  the  river,  and  dances  and 
picnics  in  the  woods  daytimes,  and  balls  at  the  house 
nights.  These  people  was  mostly  kinfolks  of  the  fam 
ily.  The  men  brought  their  guns  with  them.  It  was 
a  handsome  lot  of  quality,  I  tell  you. 

There  was  another  clan  of  aristocracy  around  there 
— five  or  six  families — mostly  of  the  name  of  Shep- 
herdson.  They  was  as  high-toned  and  well  born  and 
rich  and  grand  as  the  tribe  of  Grangerfords.  The 
Shepherdsons  and  Grangerfords  used  the  same  steam 
boat-landing,  which  was  about  two  mile  above  our 
house ;  so  sometimes  when  I  went  up  there  with  a  lot 
of  our  folks  I  used  to  see  a  lot  of  the  Shepherdsons 
there  on  their  fine  horses. 

One  day  Buck  and  me  was  away  out  in  the  woods 


H3 

hunting,  and  heard  a  horse  coming.  We  was. crossing 
the  road.  Buck  says : 

"  Quick !     Jump  for  the  woods !" 

We  done  it,  and  then  peeped  down  the  woods 
through  the  leaves.  Pretty  soon  a  splendid  young 
man  come  galloping  down  the  road,  setting  his  horse 
easy  and  looking  like  a  soldier.  He  had  his  gun  across 
his  pommel.  I  had  seen  him  before.  It  was  young 
Harney  Shepherdson.  I  heard  Buck's  gun  go  off  at 
my  ear,  and  Harney's  hat  tumbled  off  from  his  head. 
He  grabbed  his  gun  and  rode  straight  to  the  place 
where  we  was  hid.  But  we  didn't  wait.  We  started 
through  the  woods  on  a  run.  The  woods  warn't  thick, 
so  I  looked  over  my  shoulder  to  dodge  the  bullet,  and 
twice  I  seen  Harney  cover  Buck  with  his  gun ;  and 
then  he  rode  away  the  way  he  come — to  get  his  hat, 
I  reckon,  but  I  couldn't  see.  We  never  stopped  run 
ning  till  we  got  home.  The  old  gentleman's  eyes 
blazed  a  minute — 'twas  pleasure,  mainly,  I  judged — 
then  his  face  sort  of  smoothed  down,  and  he  says, 
kind  of  gentle : 

"  I  don't  like  that  shooting  from  behind  a  bush. 
Why  didn't  you  step  into  the  road,  my  boy?" 

"  The  Shepherdsons  don't,  father.  They  always 
take  advantage." 

Miss  Charlotte  she  held  her  head  up  like  a  queen 
while  Buck  was  telling  his  tale,  and  her  nostrils  spread 
and  her  eyes  snapped.  The  two  young  men  looked 
dark,  but  never  said  nothing.  Miss  Sophia  she  turned 
pale,  but  the  color  come  back  when  she  found  the 
man  warn't  hurt. 

Soon  as  I  could  get  Buck  down  by  the  corn-cribs 
under  the1  trees  by  ourselves,  I  says : 


144 

"  Did  you  want  to  kill  him,  Buck?" 

"  Well,  I  bet  I  did." 

"  What  did  he  do  to  you  ?" 

"  Him?     He  never  done  nothing  to  me." 

"  Well,  then,  what  did  you  want  to  kill  him  for?" 

"  Why,  nothing — only  it's  on  account  of  the  feud." 

"What's  a  feud?" 

"  Why,  where  was  you  raised  ?  Don't  you  know 
what  a  feud  is?" 

"  Never  heard  of  it  before — tell  me  about  it." 

"  Well,"  says  Buck,  "  a  feud  is  this  way :  A  man 
has  a  quarrel  with  another  man,  and  kills  him ;  then 
that  other  man's  brother  kills  him;  then  the  other 
brothers,  on  both  sides,  goes  for  one  another  ;  then  the 
cousins  chip  in — and  by-and-by  everybody's  killed  off, 
and  there  ain't  no  more  feud.  But  it's  kind  of  slow, 
and  takes  a  long  time." 

"  Has  this  one  been  going  on  long,  Buck  ?" 

"  Well,  I  should  reckon  !  It  started  thirty  year  ago, 
or  som'ers  along  there.  There  was  trouble  'bout 
something,  and  then  a  lawsuit  to  settle  it;  and  the  suit 
went  agin  one  of  the  men,  and  so  he  up  and  shot  the 
man  that  won  the  suit — which  he  would  naturally  do, 
of  course.  Anybody  would." 

"What  was  the  trouble  about,  Buck?— land?" 

"  I  reckon  maybe — I  don't  know." 

"  Well,  who  done  the  shooting  ?  Was  it  a  Granger^ 
ford  or  a  Shepherdson  ?" 

"  Laws,  how  do  /  know  ?     It  was  so  long  ago." 

"  Don't  anybody  know  ?" 

"  Oh  yes,  pa  knows,  I  reckon,  and  some  of  the  other 
old  people  ;  but  they  don't  know  now  what  the  row 
was  about  in  the  first  place." 


us 

"  Has  there  been  many  killed,  Buck  ?" 
"Yes;  right  smart  chance  of  funerals.  But  they 
don't  always  kill.  Pa's  got  a  few  buckshot  in  him ; 
but  he  don't  mind  it  'cuz  he  don't  weigh  much,  any 
way.  Bob's  been  carved  up  some  with  a  bowie,  and 
Tom's  been  hurt  once  or  twice." 

"  Has  anybody  been  killed  this  year,  Buck  ?" 
"  Yes ;  we  got  one  and  they  got  one.  'Bout  three 
months  ago  my  cousin  Bud,  fourteen  year  old,  was 
riding  through  the  woods  on  t'other  side  of  the  river, 
and  didn't  have  no  weapon  with  him,  which  was  blame' 
foolishness,  and  in  a  lonesome  place  he  hears  a  horse 
a-coming  behind  him,  and  sees  old  Baldy  Shepherdson 
a-linkin'  after  him  with  his  gun  in  his  hand  and  his 
white  hair  a-flying  in  the  wind;  and  "stead  of  jumping 
off  and  taking  to-  the  brush,  Bud  'lowed  he  could  out 
run  him ;  so  they  had  it,  nip  and  tuck,  for  five  mile  or 
more,  the  old  man  a-gaining  all  the  time;  so  at  last 
Bud  seen  it  warn't  any  use,  so  he  stopped  and  faced 
around  so  as  to  have  the  bullet-holes  in  front,  you 
know,  and.  the  old  man  he  rode  up  and  shot  him 
down.  But  he  didn't  git  much  chance  to  enjoy  his 
luck,  for  inside  of  a  week  our  folks  laid  him  out." 
"  I  reckon  that  old  man  was  a  coward,  Buck." 
<l  I  reckon  he  warn't  a  coward.  Not  by  a  blame' 
sight.  There  ain't  a  coward  amongst  them  Shepherd- 
sons — not  a  one.  And  there  ain't  no  cowards  amongst 
the  Grangerfords  either.  Why,  that  old  man  kep'  up 
his  end  in  a  fight  one  day  for  half  an  hour  against 
three  Grangerfords,  and  come  out  winner.  They  was 
all  a-horseback ;  he  lit  off  of  his  horse  and  got  behind 
a  little  wood-pile,  and  kep'  his  horse  before  him  to 
stop  the  bullets ;  but  the  Grangerfords  stayed  on  their 

10  HF 


horses  and  capered  around  the  old  man,  and  peppered 
away  at  him,  and  he  peppered  away  at  them.  Him 
and  his  horse  both  went  home  pretty  leaky  and  crip 
pled,  but  the  Grangerfords  had  to  be  fetched  home — 
and  one  of  'em  was  dead,  and  another  died  the  next 
day.  No,  sir ;  if  a  body's  out  hunting  for  cowards  he 
don't  want  to  fool  away  any  time  amongst  them 
Shepherdsons,  becuz  they  don't  breed  any  of  that 
kind." 

Next  Sunday  we  all  went  to  church,  about  three 
mile,  everybody  a-horseback.  The  men  took  their 
guns  along,  so  did  Buck,  and  kept  them  between  their 
knees  or  stood  them  handy  against  the  wall.  The 
Shepherdsons  done  the  same.  It  was  pretty  ornery 
preaching  —  all  about  brotherly  love,  and  such -like 
tiresomeness ;  but  everybody  said  it  was  a  good  ser 
mon,  and  they  all  talked  it  over  going  home,  and  had 
such  a  powerful  lot  to  say  about  faith  and  good 
works  and  free  grace  and  preforeordestination,  and  I 
don't  know  what  all,  that  it  did  seem  to  me  to  be  one 
of  the  roughest  Sundays  I  had  run  across  yet. 

About  an  hour  after  dinner  everybody  was  dozing 
around,  some  in  their  chairs  and  some  in  their  rooms, 
and  it  got  to  be  pretty  dull.  Buck  and  a  dog  was 
stretched  out  on  the  grass  in  the  sun  sound  asleep.  I 
went  up  to  our  room,  and  judged  I  would  take  a  nap 
myself.  I  found  that  sweet  Miss  Sophia  standing  in 
her  door,  which  was  next  to  ours,  and  she  took  me  in 
her  room  and  shut  the  door  very  soft,  and  asked  me  if 
I  liked  her,  and  I  said  I  did ;  and  she  asked  me  if  I 
would  do  something  for  her  and  not  tell  anybody,  and 
I  said  I  would.  Then  she  said  she'd  forgot  her  Testa 
ment,  and  left  it  in  the  seat  at  church  between  two 


YOUNG    HARNEY    SHEPHERDSON 


U7 

other  books,  and  would  I  slip  out  quiet  and  go  there 
and  fetch  it  to  her,  and  not  say  nothing  to  nobody. 
I  said  I  would.  So  I  slid  out  and  slipped  off  up  the 
road,  and  there  warn't  anybody  at  the  church,  except 
maybe  a  hog  or  two,  for  there  warn't  any  lock  on  the 
door,  and  hogs  likes  a  puncheon  floor  in  summer-time 
because  it's  cool.  If  you  notice,  most  folks  don't  go 
to  church  only  when  they've  got  to  ;  but  a  hog  is 
different. 

Says  I  to  myself,  something's  up ;  it  ain't  natural 
for  a  girl  to  be  in  such  a  sweat  about  a  Testament. 
So  I  give  it  a  shake,  and  out  drops  a  little  piece  of 
paper  with  "  Half -past  two  "  wrote  on  it  with  a  pencil. 
I  ransacked  it,  but  couldn't  find  anything  else.  I 
couldn't  make  anything  out  of  that,  so  I  put  the 
paper  in  the  book  again,  and  when  I  got  home  and 
up-stairs  there  was  Miss  Sophia  in  her  door  waiting 
for  me.  She  pulled  me  in  and  shut  the  door;  then 
she  looked  in  the  Testament  till  she  found  the  paper, 
and  as  soon  as  she  read  it  she  looked  glad ;  and 
before  a  body  could  think  she  grabbed  me  and  give 
me  a  squeeze,  and  said  I  was  the  best  boy  in  the 
world,  and  not  to  tell  anybody.  She  was  mighty  red 
in  the  face  for  a  minute,  and  her  eyes  lighted  up,  and 
it  made  her  powerful  pretty.  I  was  a  good  deal  as 
tonished,  but  when  I  got  my  breath  I  asked  her  what 
the  paper  was  about,  and  she  asked  me  if  I  had  read 
it,  and  I  said  no,  and  she  asked  me  if  I  could  read 
writing,  and  I  told  her  "  no,  only  coarse-hand,"  and 
then  she  said  the  paper  warn't  anything  but  a  book 
mark  to  keep  her  place,  and  I  might  go  and  play  now. 

I  went  off  down  to  the  river,  studying  over  this 
thing,  and  pretty  soon  I  noticed  that  my  nigger  was 


following  along  behind.  When  we  was  out  of  sight 
of  the  house  he  looked  back  and  around  a  second,  and 
then  comes  a-running,  and  says: 

"  Mars  Jawge,  if  you'll  come  down  into  de  swamp 
I'll  show  you  a  whole  stack  o'  water-moccasins." 

Thinks  I,  that's  mighty  curious ;  he  said  that  yes 
terday.  He  oughter  know  a  body  don't  love  water- 
moccasins  enough  to  go  around  hunting  for  them. 
What  is  he  up  to,  anyway  ?  So  I  says : 

"  All  right ;  trot  ahead." 

I  followed  a  half  a  mile;  then  he  struck  out  over  the 
swamp,  and  waded  ankle  deep  as  much  as  another 
half-mile.  We  come  to  a  little  flat  piece  of  land 
which  was  dry  and  very  thick  with  trees  and  bushes 
and  vines,  and  he  says : 

"You  shove  right  in  dah  jist  a  few  steps,  Mars 
Jawge ;  dah's  whah  dey  is.  I's  seed  'm  befo' ;  I  don't 
k'yer  to  see  'em  no  mo'  " 

Then  he  slopped  right  along  and  went  away,  and 
pretty  soon  the  trees  hid  him.  I  poked  into  the  place 
a-ways  and  come  to  a  little  open  patch  as  big  as 
a  bedroom  all  hung  around  with  vines,  and  found  a 
man  laying  there  asleep  —  and,  by  jings,  it  was  my 
old  Jim! 

I  waked  him  up,  and  I  reckoned  it  was  going  to 
be  a  grand  surprise  to  him  to  see  me  again,  but  it 
warn't.  He  nearly  cried  he  was  so  glad,  but  he 
warn't  surprised.  Said  he  swum  along  behind  me 
that  night,  and  heard  me  yell  every  time,  but  dasn't 
answer,  because  he  didn't  want  nobody  to  pick  him 
up  and  take  him  into  slavery  again.  Says  he : 

"  I  got  hurt  a  little,  en  couldn't  swim  fas',  so  I 
wuz  a  considable  ways  behine  you  towards  de  las'; 


U9 

when  you  landed  I  reck'ned  I  could  ketch  up  wid 
you  on  de  Ian'  'dout  havin'  to  shout  at  you,  but  when 
I  see  dat  house  I  begin  to  go  slow.  I  'uz  off  too 
fur  to  hear  what  dey  say  to  you — I  wuz  'fraid  o'  de 
dogs  ;  but  when  it  'uz  all  quiet  agin  I  knowed  you's 
in  de  house,  so  I  struck  out  for  de  woods  to  wait  for 
day.  Early  in  de  mawnin'  some  er  de  niggers  come 
along,  gwyne  to  de  fields,  en  dey  tuck  me  en  showed 
me  dis  place,  whah  de  dogs  can't  track  me  on  ac 
counts  o'  de  water,  en  dey  brings  me  truck  to  eat 
every  night,  en  tells  me  how  you's  a-gitt'n  along." 

"  Why  didn't  you  tell  my  Jack  to  fetch  me  here 
sooner,  Jim  ?" 

"Well,  'twarn't  no  use  to  'sturb  you,  Huck,  tell 
we  could  do  sumfn — but  we's  all  right  now.  I  ben 
a-buyin'  pots  en  pans  en  vittles,  as  I  got  a  chanst,  en 
a-patchin'  up  de  raf  nights  when — " 

"  What  raft,  Jim  ?" 

"Our  ole  raf." 

"You  mean  to  say  our  old  raft  warn't  smashed  all 
to  flinders?" 

"  No,  she  warn't.  She  was  tore  up  a  good  deal — 
one  en'  of  her  was ;  but  dey  warn't  no  great  harm 
done,  on'y  our  traps  was  mos'  all  los'.  Ef  we  hadn' 
dive'  so  deep  en  swum  so  fur  under  water,  en  de  night 
hadn'  ben  so  dark,  en  we  warn't  so  sk'yerd,  en  ben 
sich  punkin-heads,  as  de  sayin'  is,  we'd  a  seed  de  raf. 
But  it's  jis'  as  well  we  didn't,  'kase  now  she's  all  fixed 
up  agin  mos'  as  gocd  as  new,  en  we's  got  a  new  lot 
o'  stuff,  too,  in  de  place  o'  what  'uz  los'." 

"  Why,  how  did  you  get  hold  of  the  raft  again,  Jim 
— did  you  catch  her  ?" 

"  How  I  gwyne  to  ketch  her  en  I  out  in  de  woods? 


No  ;  some  er  de  niggers  foun'  her  ketched  on  a  snag 
along  heah  in  the  ben',  en  dey  hid  her  in  a  crick 
'mongst  de  willows,  en  dey  wuz  so  much  jawin'  'bout 
which  un  'um  she  b'long  to  de  mos'  dat  I  come  to 
heah  'bout  it  pooty  soon,  so  I  ups  en  settles  de  trouble 
by  tellin'  'um  she  don't  b'long  to  none  uv  um,  but  to 
you  en  me ;  en  I  ast  'm  if  dey  gwyne  to  grab  a  young 
white  genlman's  propaty,  en  git  a  hid'n  for  it?  Den 
I  gin  'm  ten  cents  apiece,  en  dey  'uz  mighty  well 
satisfied,  en  wisht  some  mo'  raf's  'ud  come  along  en 
make  'm  rich  agin.  Dey's  mighty  good  to  me,  dese 
niggers  is,  en  whatever  I  wants  'm  to  do  fur  me  I 
doan'  have  to  ast  'm  twice,  honey.  Dat  Jack's  a 
good  nigger,  en  pooty  smart." 

"Yes,  he  is.  He  ain't  ever  told  me  you  was  here; 
told  me  to  come,  and  he'd  show  me  a  lot  of  water- 
moccasins.  If  anything  happens  he  ain't  mixed  up 
in  it.  He  can  say  he  never  seen  us  together,  and  it  '11 
be  the  truth." 

I  don't  want  to  talk  much  about  the  next  day.  I 
reckon  I'll  cut  it  pretty  short.  I  waked  up  about 
dawn,  and  was  a-going  to  turn  over  and  go  to  sleep 
again  when  I  noticed  how  still  it  was — didn't  seem  to  be 
anybody  stirring.  That  warn't  usual.  Next  I  noticed 
that  Buck  was  up  and  gone.  Well,  I  gets  up,  a-wonder- 
ing,  and  goes  down-stairs  —  nobody  around ;  every 
thing  as  still  as  a  mouse.  Just  the  same  outside. 
Thinks  I,  what  does  it  mean  ?  Down  by  the  wood 
pile  I  comes  across  my  Jack,  and  says: 

"  What's  it  all  about  ?" 

Says  he : 

"  Don't  you  know,  Mars  Jawge  ?" 

"  No,"  says  I,  "  I  don't." 


15* 

"  Well,  den,  Miss  Sophia's  run  off !  'deed  she  has. 
She  run  off  in  de  night  some  time  —  nobody  don't 
know  |is'  when ;  run  off  to  git  married  to  dat  young 
Harney  Shepherdson,  you  know  —  leastways,  so  dey 
'spec.  De  fambly  foun'  it  out  'bout  half  an  hour 
ago — maybe  a  little  mo' — en'  I  tell  you  dey  warn't  no 
time  los'.  Sich  another  hurryin'  up  guns  en  hosses 
you  never  see !  De  women  folks  has  gone  for  to  stir 
up  de  relations,  en  ole  Mars  Saul  en  de  boys  tuck 
dey  guns  en  rode  up  de  river  road  for  to  try  to  ketch 
dat  young  man  en  kill  him  'fo'  he  kin  git  acrost  de 
river  wid  Miss  Sophia.  I  reck'n  dey's  gwyne  to  be 
mighty  rough  times." 

"  Buck  went  off  'thout  waking  me  up." 

"  Well,  I  reck'n  he  did  !  Dey  warn't  gwyne  to  mix 
you  up  in  it.  Mars  Buck  he  loaded  up  his  gun  en 
'lowed  he's  gwyne  to  fetch  home  a  Shepherdson  or 
bust.  Well,  dey'll  be  plenty  un  'm  dah,  I  reck'n,  en 
you  bet  you  he'll  fetch  one  ef  he  gits  a  chanst." 

I  took  up  the  river  road  as  hard  as  I  could  put. 
By-and-by  I  begin  to  hear  guns  a  good  ways  off. 
When  I  come  in  sight  of  the  log-store  and  the  wood 
pile  where  the  steamboats  lands  I  worked  along  under 
the  trees  and  brush  till  I  got  to  a  good  place,  and 
then  I  dumb  up  into  the  forks  of  a  cotton-wood  that 
was  out  of  reach,  and  watched.  There  was  a  wood- 
rank  four  foot  high  a  little  ways  in  front  of  the  tree, 
and  first  I  was  going  to  hide  behind  that ;  but  maybe 
it  was  luckier  I  didn't. 

There  was  four  or  five  men  cavorting  around  on 
their  horses  in  the  open  place  before  the  log- store, 
cussing  and  yelling,  and  trying  to  get  at  a  couple  of 
young  chaps  that  was  behind  the  wood-rank  alongside 


of  the  steamboat-landing  ;  but  they  couldn't  come  it. 
Every  time  one  of  them  showed  himself  on  the  river 
side  of  the  wood-pile  he  got  shot  at.  The  two  boys 
was  squatting  back  to  back  behind  the  pile,  so  they 
could  watch  both  ways. 

By-and-by  the  men  stopped  cavorting  around  and 
yelling.  They  started  riding  towards  the  store ;  then 
up  gets  one  of  the  boys,  draws  a  steady  bead  over  the 
wood-rank,  and  drops  one  of  them  out  of  his  saddle. 
All  the  men  jumped  off  of  their  horses  and  grabbed 
the  hurt  one  and  started  to  carry  him  to  the  store; 
and  that  minute  the  two  boys  started  on  the  run. 
They  got  half-way  to  the  tree  I  was  in  before  the 
men  noticed.  Then  the  men  see  them,  and  jumped 
on  their  horses  and  took  out  after  them.  They  gained 
on  the  boys,  but  it  didn't  do  no  good,  the  boys  had 
too  good  a  start ;  they  got  to  the  wood-pile  that  was 
in  front  of  my  tree,  and  slipped  in  behind  it,  and  so 
they  had  the  bulge  on  the  men  again.  One  of  the 
boys  was  Buck,  and  the  other  was  a  slim  young  chap 
about  nineteen  years  old. 

The  men  ripped  around  awhile,  and  then  rode 
away.  As  soon  as  they  was  out  of  sight  I  sung  out 
to  Buck  and  told  him.  He  didn't  know  what  to 
make  of  my  voice  coming  out  of  the  tree  at  first. 
He  was  awful  surprised.  He  told  me  to  watch  out 
sharp  and  let  him  know  when  the  men  come  in  sight 
again ;  said  they  was  up  to  some  devilment  or  other 
— wouldn't  be  gone  long.  I  wished  I  was  out  of  that 
tree,  but  I  dasn't  come  down.  Buck  begun  to  cry 
and  rip,  and  'lowed  that  him  and  his  cousin  Joe  (that 
was  the  other  young  chap)  would  make  up  for  this 
day  yet.  He  said  his  father  and  his  two  brothers 


'53 

was  killed,  and  two  or  three  of  the  enemy.  Said  the 
Shepherdsons  laid  for  them  in  ambush.  Buck  said 
his  father  and  brothers  ought  to  waited  for  their  rela 
tions — the  Shepherdsons  was  too  strong  for  them.  I 
asked  him  what  was  become  of  young  Harney  and  Miss 
Sophia.  He  said  they'd  got  across  the  river  and  was 
safe.  I  was  glad  of  that ;  but  the  way  Buck  did  take 
on  because  he  didn't  manage  to  kill  Harney  that  day 
he  shot  at  him — I  hain't  ever  heard  anything  like  it. 

All  of  a  sudden,  bang !  bang!  bang!  goes  three  or 
four  guns — the  men  had  slipped  around  through  the 
woods  and  come  in  from  behind  without  their  horses ! 
The  boys  jumped  for  the  river — both  of  them  hurt — 
and  as  they  swum  down  the  current  the  men  run 
along  the  bank  shooting  at  them  and  singing  out, 
"  Kill  them,  kill  them  !"  It  made  me  so  sick  I  most 
fell  out  of  the  tree.  I  ain't  a-going  to  tell  all  that 
happened — it  would  make  me  sick  again  if  I  was  to 
do  that.  I  wished  I  hadn't  ever  come  ashore  that 
night  to  see  such  things.  I  ain't  ever  going  to  get 
shut  of  them — lots  of  times  I  dream  about  them. 

I  stayed  in  the  tree  till  it  begun  to  get  dark,  afraid 
to  come  down.  Sometimes  I  heard  guns  away  off  in 
the  woods ;  and  twice  I  seen  little  gangs  of  men 
gallop  past  the  log-store  with  guns ;  so  I  reckoned 
the  trouble  was  still  a-going  on.  I  was  mighty  down 
hearted  ;  so  I  made  up  my  mind  I  wouldn't  ever  go 
anear  that  house  again,  because  I  reckoned  I  was  to 
blame,  somehow.  I  judged  that  that  piece  of  paper 
meant  that  Miss  Sophia  was  to  meet  Harney  some- 
wheres  at  half-past  two  and  run  off;  and  I  judged  I 
ought  to  told  her  father  about  that  paper  and  the 
curious  way  she  acted,  and  then  maybe  he  would  a 


154 

locked  her  up,  and  this  awful  mess  wouldn't  ever  hap 
pened. 

When  I  got  down  out  of  the  tree  I  crept  along 
down  the  river-bank  a  piece,  and  found  the  two 
bodies  laying  in  the  edge  of  the  water,  and  tugged  at 
them  till  I  got  them  ashore ;  then  I  covered  up  their 
faces,  and  got  away  as  quick  as  I  could.  I  cried  a 
little  when  I  was  covering  up  Buck's  face,  for  he  was 
mighty  good  to  me. 

It  was  just  dark  now.  I  never  went  near  the  house, 
but  struck  through  the  woods  and  made  for  the 
swamp.  Jim  warn't  on  his  island,  so  I  tramped  off 
in  a  hurry  for  the  crick,  and  crowded  through  the 
willows,  red-hot  to  jump  aboard  and  get  out  of  that 
awful  country.  The  raft  was  gone !  My  souls,  but  I 
was  scared !  I  couldn't  get  my  breath  for  most  a 
minute.  Then  I  raised  a  yell.  A  voice  not  twenty- 
five  foot  from  me  says : 

"  Good  Ian' !  is  dat  you,  honey  ?  Doan'  make  no 
noise." 

It  was  Jim's  voice — nothing  ever  sounded  so  good 
before.  I  run  along  the  bank  a  piece  and  got  aboard, 
and  Jim  he  grabbed  me  and  hugged  me,  he  was  so 
glad  to  see  me.  He  says : 

"  Laws  bless  you,  chile,  I  'uz  right  down  sho'  you's 
dead  agin.  Jack's  been  heah;  he  say  he  reck'n 
you's  ben  shot,  kase  you  didn'  come  home  no  mo' ; 
so  I's  jes'  dis  minute  a  startin'  de  raf  down  towards 
de  mouf  er  de  crick,  so's  to  be  all  ready  for  to  shove 
out  en  leave  soon  as  Jack  comes  agin  en  tells  me  for 
certain  you  is  dead.  Lawsy,  I's  mighty  glad  to  git 
you  back  again,  honey." 

I  says: 


J55_ 

"All  right — that's  mighty  good;  they  won't  find 
me,  and  they'll  think  I've  been  killed,  and  floated 
down  the  river — there's  something  up  there  that  '11 
help  them  think  so — so  don't  you  lose  no  time,  Jim, 
but  just  shove  off  for  the  big  water  as  fast  as  ever 
you  can." 

I  never  felt  easy  till  the  raft  was  two  mile  below 
there  and  out  in  the  middle  of  the  Mississippi.  Then 
we  hung  up  our  signal  lantern,  and  judged  that  we 
was  free  and  safe  once  more.  I  hadn't  had  a  bite  to 
eat  since  yesterday,  so  Jim  he  got  out  some  corn 
dodgers  and  buttermilk,  and  pork  and  cabbage  and 
greens  —  there  ain't  nothing  in  the  world  so  good 
when  it's  cooked  right — and  whilst  I  eat  my  supper 
we  talked  and  had  a  good  time.  I  was  powerful 
glad  to  get  away  from  the  feuds,  and  so  was  Jim  to 
get  away  from  the  swamp.  We  said  there  warn't  no 
home  like  a  raft,  after  all.  Other  places  do  seem  so 
cramped  up  and  smothery,  but  a  raft  don't.  You 
feel  mighty  free  and  easy  and  comfortable  on  a  raft. 


CHAPTER  XIX 

Two  or  three  days  and  nights  went  by ;  I  reckon 
I  might  say  they  swum  by,  they  slid  along  so  quiet 
and  smooth  and  lovely.  Here  is  the  way  we  put  in 
the  time.  It  was  a  monstrous  big  river  down  there — 
sometimes  a  mile  and  a  half  wide ;  we  run  nights,  and 
laid  up  and  hid  daytimes ;  soon  as  night  was  most 
gone  we  stopped  navigating  and  tied  up — nearly  al 
ways  in  the  dead  water  under  a  tow-head ;  and  then 
cut  young  cottonwoods  and  willows,  and  hid  the  raft 
with  them.  Then  we  set  out  the  lines.  Next  we 
slid  into  the  river  and  had  a  swim,  so  as  to  freshen 
up  and  cool  off;  then  we  set  down  on  the  sandy 
bottom  where  the  water  was  about  knee  deep,  and 
watched  the  daylight  come.  Not  a  sound  anywheres 
— perfectly  still — just  like  the  whole  world  was  asleep, 
only  sometimes  the  bull- frogs  a-cluttering,  maybe. 
The  first  thing  to  see,  looking  away  over  the  water, 
was  a  kind  of  dull  line — that  was  the  woods  on  t'other 
side ;  you  couldn't  make  nothing  else  out ;  then  a 
pale  place  in  the  sky;  then  more  paleness  spread 
ing  around ;  then  the  river  softened  up  away  off, 
and  warn't  black  any  more,  but  gray ;  you  could 
see  little  dark  spots  drifting  along  ever  so  far  away 
— trading -scows,  and  such  things;  and  long  black 
streaks  —  rafts;  sometimes  you  could  hear  a  sweep 
screaking;  or  jumbled  up  voices,  it  was  so  still,  and 


157 

sounds  come  so  far ;  and  by-and-by  you  could  see  a 
streak  on  the  water  which  you  know  by  the  look  of 
the  streak  that  there's  a  snag  there  in  a  swift  current 
which  breaks  on  it  and  makes  that  streak  look  that 
way ;  and  you  see  the  mist  curl  up  off  of  the  water, 
and  the  east  reddens  up,  and  the  river,  and  you  make 
out  a  log-cabin  in  the  edge  of  the  woods,  away  on 
the  bank  on  t'other  side  of  the  river,  being  a  wood- 
yard,  likely,  and  piled  by  them  cheats  so  you  can 
throw  a  dog  through  it  anywheres ;  then  the  nice 
breeze  springs  up,  and  comes  fanning  you  from  over 
there,  so  cool  and  fresh  and  sweet  to  smell  on  ac 
count  of  the  woods  and  the  flowers;  but  sometimes 
not  that  way,  because  they've  left  dead  fish  laying 
around,  gars,  and  such,  and  they  do  get  pretty  rank; 
and  next  you've  got  the  full  day,  and  everything 
smiling  in  the  sun,  and  the  song-birds  just  going  it ! 

A  little  smoke  couldn't  be  noticed  now,  so  we 
would  take  some  fish  off  of  the  lines  and  cook  up  a  hot 
breakfast.  And  afterwards  we  would  watch  the  lone- 
someness  of  the  river,  and  kind  of  lazy  along,  and  by- 
and-by  lazy  off  to  sleep.  Wake  up  by-and-by,  and 
look  to  see  what  done  it,  and  maybe  see  a  steamboat 
coughing  along  up-stream,  so  far  off  towards  the 
other  side  you  couldn't  tell  nothing  about  her  only 
whether  she  was  a  stern-wheel  or  side-wheel ;  then  for 
about  an  hour  there  wouldn't  be  nothing  to  hear  nor 
nothing  to  see — just  solid  lonesomeness.  Next  you'd 
see  a  raft  sliding  by,  away  off  yonder,  and  maybe  a 
galoot  on  it  chopping,  because  they're  most  always 
doing  it  on  a  raft ;  you'd  see  the  axe  flash  and  come 
down — you  don't  hear  nothing ;  you  see  that  axe  go 
up  again,  and  by  the  time  it's  above  the  man's  head 


then  you  hear  the  K chunk  ! — it  had  took  all  that  time 
to  come  over  the  water.  So  we  would  put  in  the  day, 
lazying  around,  listening  to  the  stillness.  Once  there 
was  a  thick  fog,  and  the  rafts  and  things  that  went  by 
was  beating  tin  pans  so  the  steamboats  wouldn't  run 
over  them.  A  scow  or  a  raft  went  by  so  close  we  could 
hear  them  talking  and  cussing  and  laughing — heard 
them  plain ;  but  we  couldn't  see  no  sign  of  them ;  it 
made  you  feel  crawly ;  it  was  like  spirits  carrying  on 
that  way  in  the  air.  Jim  said  he  believed  it  was 
spirits  ;  but  I  says  : 

"  No  ;  spirits  wouldn't  say,  '  Bern  the  dern  fog.'  " 
Soon  as  it  was  night  out  we  shoved ;  when  we  got 
her  out  to  about  the  middle  we  let  her  alone,  and  let 
her  float  wherever  the  current  wanted  her  to  ;  then 
we  lit  the  pipes,  and  dangled  our  legs  in  the  water, 
and  talked  about  all  kinds  of  things — we  was  always 
naked,  day  and  night,  whenever  the  mosquitoes  would 
let  us — the  new  clothes  Buck's  folks  made  for  me  was 
too  good  to  be  comfortable,  and  besides  I  didn't  go 
much  on  clothes,  nohow. 

Sometimes  we'd  have  that  whole  river  all  to  our 
selves  for  the  longest  time.  Yonder  was  the  banks 
and  the  islands,  across  the  water ;  and  maybe  a  spark 
— which  was  a  candle  in  a  cabin  window ;  and  some 
times  on  the  water  you  could  see  a  spark  or  two — on 
a  raft  or  a  scow,  you  know ;  and  maybe  you  could 
hear  a  fiddle  or  a  song  coming  over  from  one  of  them 
crafts.  It's  lovely  to  live  on  a  raft.  We  had  the  sky 
up  there,  all  speckled  with  stars,  and  we  used  to  lay 
on  our  backs  and  look  up  at  them,  and  discuss  about 
whether  they  was  made  or  only  just  happened.  Jim 
he  allowed  they  was  made,  but  I  allowed  they  hap- 


159 

pened;  I  judged  it  would  have  took  too  long  to  make 
so  many.  Jim  said  the  moon  could  a  laid  them ; 
well,  that  looked  kind  of  reasonable,  so  I  didn't  say 
nothing  against  it,  because  I've  seen  a  frog  lay  most 
as  many,  so  of  course  it  could  be  done.  We  used  to 
watch  the  stars  that  fell,  too,  and  see  them  streak 
down.  Jim  allowed  they'd  got  spoiled  and  was  hove 
out  of  the  nest. 

Once  or  twice  of  a  night  we  would  see  a  steamboat 
slipping  along  in  the  dark,  and  now  and  then  she 
would  belch  a  whole  world  of  sparks  up  out  of  her 
chimbleys,  and  they  would  rain  down  in  the  river  and 
look  awful  pretty ;  then  she  would  turn  a  corner  and 
her  lights  would  wink  out  and  her  powwow  shut  off 
and  leave  the  river  still  again ;  and  by-and-by  her 
waves  would  get  to  us,  a  long  time  after  she  was 
gone,  and  joggle  the  raft  a  bit,  and  after  that  you 
wouldn't  hear  nothing  for  you  couldn't  tell  how  long, 
except  maybe  frogs  or  something. 

After  midnight  the  people  on  shore  went  to  bed, 
and  then  for  two  or  three  hours  the  shores  was  black 
— no  more  sparks  in  the  cabin  windows.  These  sparks 
was  our  clock — the  first  one  that  showed  again  meant 
morning  was  coming,  so  we  hunted  a  place  to  hide 
and  tie  up  right  away. 

One  morning  about  daybreak  I  found  a  canoe  and 
crossed  over  a  chute  to  the  main  shore — it  was  only 
two  hundred  yards — and  paddled  about  a  mile  up  a 
crick  amongst  the  cypress  woods,  to  see  if  I  couldn't 
get  some  berries.  Just  as  I  was  passing  a  place  where 
a  kind  of  a  cow-path  crossed  the  crick,  here  comes  a 
couple  of  men  tearing  up  the  path  as  tight  as  they 
could  foot  >t  I  thought  I  was  a  goner,  for  whenever 


i6o 


anybody  was  after  anybody  I  judged  it  was  me — or 
maybe  Jim.  I  was  about  to  dig  out  from  there  in  a 
hurry,  but  they  was  pretty  close  to  me  then,  and  sung 
out  and  begged  me  to  save  their  lives  —  said  they 
hadn't  been  doing  nothing,  and  was  being  chased  for 
it — said  there  was  men  and  dogs  a-coming.  They 
wanted  to  jump  right  in,  but  I  says: 

"  Don't  you  do  it.  I  don't  hear  the  dogs  and  horses 
yet ;  you've  got  time  to  crowd  through  the  brush  and 
get  up  the  crick  a  little  ways ;  then  you  take  to  the 
water  and  wade  down  to  me  and  get  in — that  '11  throw 
the  dogs  off  the  scent." 

They  done  it,  and  soon  as  they  was  aboard  I  lit  out 
for  our  tow-head,  and  in  about  five  or  ten  minutes  we 
heard  the  dogs  and  the  men  away  off,  shouting.  We 
heard  them  come  along  towards  the  crick,  but  couldn't 
see  them ;  they  seemed  to  stop  and  fool  around  a 
while;  then,  as  we  got  further  and  further  away  all 
the  time,  we  couldn't  hardly  hear  them  at  all ;  by  the 
time  we  had  left  a  mile  of  woods  behind  us  and  struck 
the  river,  everything  was  quiet,  and  we  paddled  over 
to  the  tow-head  and  hid  in  the  cotton-woods  and  was 
safe. 

One  of  these  fellows  was  about  seventy  or  upwards, 
and  had  a  bald  head  and  very  gray  whiskers.  He 
had  an  old  battered-up  slouch  hat  on,  and  a  greasy 
blue  woollen  shirt,  and  ragged  old  blue  jeans  britches 
stuffed  into  his  boot-tops,  and  home-knit  galluses — 
no,  he  only  had  one.  He  had  an  old  long-tailed  blue 
jeans  coat  with  slick  brass  buttons  flung  over  his 
arm,  and  both  of  them  had  big,  fat,  ratty-looking  car 
pet-bags. 

The  other  fellow  was  about  thirty,  and  dressed  about 


"AND  DOGS  A-COMING" 


as  ornery.  After  breakfast  we  all  laid  off  and  talked, 
and  the  first  thing  that  come  out  was  that  these  chaps 
didn't  know  one  another. 

"  What  got  you  into  trouble  ?"  says  the  baldhead 
to  t'other  chap. 

"  Well,  I'd  been  selling  an  article  to  take  the  tartar 
off  the  teeth — and  it  does  take  it  off,  too,  and  generly 
the  enamel  along  with  it  —  but  I  stayed  about  one 
night  longer  than  I  ought  to,  and  was  just  in  the  act 
of  sliding  out  when  I  ran  across  you  on  the  trail  this 
side  of  town,  and  you  told  me  they  were  coming,  and 
begged  me  to  help  you  to  get  off.  So  I  told  you  I 
was  expecting  trouble  myself,  and  would  scatter  out 
with  you.  That's  the  whole  yarn — what's  yourn  ?" 

"Well,  I'd  ben  a-runnin'  a  little  temperance  re 
vival  thar  'bout  a  week,  and  was  the  pet  of  the  wom 
en-folks,  big  and  little,  for  I  was  makin'  it  mighty 
warm  for  the  rummies,  I  tell  you,  and  takin'  as  much 
as  five  or  six  dollars  a  night — ten  cents  a  head,  chil 
dren  and  niggers  free — and  business  a-growin'  all  the 
time,  when  somehow  or  another  a  little  report  got 
around  last  night  that  I  had  a  way  of  puttin'  in  my 
time  with  a  private  jug  on  the  sly.  A  nigger  rousted 
me  out  this  mornin',  and  told  me  the  people  was  geth- 
erin'  on  the  quiet  with  their  dogs  and  horses,  and 
they'd  be  along  pretty  soon  and  give  me  'bout  half 
an  hour's  start,  and  then  run  me  down  if  they  could ; 
and  if  they  got  me  they'd  tar  and  feather  me  and  ride 
me  on  a  rail,  sure.  I  didn't  wait  for  no  breakfast — I 
warn't  hungry." 

"  Old  man,"  said  the  young  one, "  I  reckon  we  might 
double-team  it  together;  what  do  you  think?" 

"  I  ain't  undisposed.     What's  your  line — mainly?" 


l62 


"Jour  printer  by  trade;  do  a  little  in  patent  medi 
cines  ;  theatre-actor — tragedy,  you  know  ;  take  a  turn 
to  mesmerism  and  phrenology  when  there's  a  chance  ; 
teach  singing-geography  school  for  a  change ;  sling  a 
lecture  sometimes — oh,  I  do  lots  of  things — most  any 
thing  that  comes  handy,  so  it  ain't  work.  What's  your 
lay?" 

"  I've  done  considerble  in  the  doctoring  way  in  my 
time.  Layin*  on  o'  hands  is  my  best  holt — for  cancer 
and  paralysis,  and  sich  things ;  and  I  k'n  tell  a  fortune 
pretty  good  when  I've  got  somebody  along  to  find 
out  the  facts  for  me.  Preachin's  my  line,  too,  and 
workin'  camp-meetin's,  and  missionaryin'  around." 

Nobody  never  said  anything  for  a  while ;  then  the 
young  man  hove  a  sigh  and  says : 

"Alas!" 

"  What  're  you  alassin'  about  ?"  says  the  baldhead. 

"  To»think  I  should  have  lived  to  be  leading  such  a 
life,  and  be  degraded  down  into  such  company."  And 
he  begun  to  wipe  the  corner  of  his  eye  with  a  rag. 

"  Bern  your  skin,  ain't  the  company  good  enough 
for  you  ?"  says  the  baldhead,  pretty  pert  and  uppish. 
•  "  Yes,  it  is  good  enough  for  me ;  it's  as  good  as  I 
deserve ;  for  who  fetched  me  so  low  when  I  was  so 
high  ?  /  did  myself.  I  don't  blame  you,  gentlemen — 
far  from  it;  I  don't  blame  anybody.  I  deserve  it  all. 
Let  the  cold  world  do  its  worst ;  one  thing  I  know — 
there's  a  grave  somewhere  for  me.  The  world  may 
go  on  just  as  it's  always  done,  and  take  everything 
from  me  —  loved  ones,  property,  everything;  but  it 
can't  take  that.  Some  day  I'll  lie  down  in  it  and  for 
get  it  all,  and  my  poor  broken  heart  will  be  at  rest." 
He  went  on  a-wiping. 


"  Drot  your  pore  broken  heart,"  says  the  baldhead ; 
"  what  are  you  heaving  your  pore  broken  heart  at  us 
fr?  We  hain't  done  nothing." 

"  No,  I  know  you  haven't.  I  ain't  blaming  you, 
gentlemen.  I  brought  myself  down — yes,  I  did  it  my 
self.  It's  right  I  should  suffer — perfectly  right — I 
don't  make  any  moan." 

"Brought  you  down  from  whar?  Whar  was  you 
brought  down  from?" 

"  Ah,  you  would  not  believe  me ;  the  world  never 
believes  —  let  it  pass — 'tis  no  matter.  The  secret  of 
my  birth — " 

"  The  secret  of  your  birth  !    Do  you  mean  to  say — " 

"  Gentlemen,"  says  the  young  man,  very  solemn, 
"  I  will  reveal  it  to  you,  for  I  feel  I  may  have  confi 
dence  in  you.  By  rights  I  am  a  duke !" 

Jim's  eyes  bugged  out  when  he  heard  that ;  and  I 
reckon  mine  did,  too.  Then  the  baldhead  says :  "  No ! 
you  can't  mean  it?" 

"  Yes.  My  great-grandfather,  eldest  son  of  the  Duke 
of  Bridgewater,  fled  to  this  country  about  the  end  of 
the  last  century,  to  breathe  the  pure  air  of  freedom ; 
married  here,  and  died,  leaving  a  son,  his  own  father 
dying  about  the  same  time.  The  second  son  of  the 
late  duke  seized  the  titles  and  estates — the  infant  real 
duke  was  ignored.  I  am  the  lineal  descendant  of  that 
infant — I  am  the  rightful  Duke  of  Bridgewater ;  and 
here  am  I,  forlorn,  torn  from  my  high  estate,  hunted 
of  men,  despised  by  the  cold  world,  ragged,  worn, 
heart-broken,  and  degraded  to  the  companionship  of 
felons  on  a  raft !" 

Jim  pitied  him  ever  so  much,  and  so  did  I.  We 
tried  to  comfort  him,  but  he  said  it  warn't  much  use, 


164 

he  couldn't  be  much  comforted  ;  said  if  we  was  a 
mind  to  acknowledge  him,  that  would  do  him  more 
good  than  most  anything  else ;  so  we  said  we  would, 
if  he  would  tell  us  how.  He  said  we  ought  to  bow 
when  we  spoke  to  him,  and  say  "Your  Grace,"  or 
"  My  Lord,"  or  "  Your  Lordship  " — and  he  wouldn't 
mind  it  if  we  called  him  plain  "  Bridgewater,"  which, 
he  said,  was  a  title  anyway,  and  not  a  name ;  and 
one  of  us  ought  to  wait  on  him  at  dinner,  and  do  any 
little  thing  for  him  he  wanted  done. 

Well,  that  was  all  easy,  so  we  done  it.  All  through 
dinner  Jim  stood  around  and  waited  on  him,  and  says, 
"Will  yo'  Grace  have  some  o'  dis  or  some  o'  dat?" 
and  so  on,  and  a  body  could  see  it  was  mighty  pleas 
ing  to  him. 

But  the  old  man  got  pretty  silent  by -and -by — 
didn't  have  much  to  say,  and  didn't  look  pretty  com 
fortable  over  all  that  petting  that  was  going  on  around 
that  duke.  He  seemed  to  have  something  on  his 
mind.  So,  along  in  the  afternoon,  he  says : 

"  Looky  here,  Bilgewater,"  he  says,  "  I'm  nation 
sorry  for  you,  but  you  ain't  the  only  person  that's 
had  troubles  like  that." 

"No?" 

"  No,  you  ain't.  You  ain't  the  only  person  that's 
ben  snaked  down  wrongfully  out'n  a  high  place." 

"Alas!" 

"  No,  you  ain't  the  only  person  that's  had  a  secret 
of  his  birth."  And,  by  jings,  he  begins  to  cry. 

"  Hold  !     What  do  you  mean  ?" 

"  Bilgewater,  kin  I  trust  you  ?"  says  the  old  man, 
still  sort  of  sobbing. 

"  To  the  bitter  death !"    He  took  the  old  man  by 


"  'I   AM   THE  LATE   DAUPHIN 


165 

the  hand  and  squeezed  it,  and  says,  "  That  secret  of 
your  being :  speak  !" 

"  Bilgewater,  I  am  the  late  Dauphin  !" 

You  bet  you,  Jim  and  me  stared  this  time.  Then 
the  duke  says : 

"  You  are  what  ?" 

"  Yes,  my  friend,  it  is  too  true — your  eyes  is  lookin' 
at  this  very  moment  on  the  pore  disappeared  Dauphin, 
Looy  the  Seventeen,  son  of  Looy  the  Sixteen  and 
Marry  Antonette." 

"  You  !  At  your  age !  No !  You  mean  you're  the 
late  Charlemagne ;  you  must  be  six  or  seven  hundred 
years  old,  at  the  very  least." 

"  Trouble  has  done  it,  Bilgewater,  trouble  has  done 
it ;  trouble  has  brung  these  gray  hairs  and  this  pre 
mature  balditude.  Yes,  gentlemen,  you  see  before 
you,  in  blue  jeans  and  misery,  the  wanderin',  exiled, 
trampled-on,  and  sufferin'  rightful  King  of  France." 

Well,  he  cried  and  took  on  so  that  me  and  Jim 
didn't  know  hardly  what  to  do,  we  was  so  sorry— 
and  so  glad  and  proud  we'd  got  him  with  us,  too. 
So  we  set  in,  like  we  done  before  with  the  duke,  and 
tried  to  comfort  him.  But  he  said  it  warn't  no  use, 
nothing  but  to  be  dead  and  done  with  it  all  could 
do  him  any  good ;  though  he  said  it  often  made  him 
feel  easier  and  better  for  a  while  if  people  treated 
him  according  to  his  rights,  and  got  down  on  one 
knee  to  speak  to  him,  and  always  called  him  "  Your 
Majesty,"  and  waited  on  him  first  at  meals,  and  didn't 
set  down  in  his  presence  till  he  asked  them.  So  Jim 
and  me  set  to  majestying  him,  and  doing  this  and 
that  and  t'other  for  him,  and  standing  up  till  he  told 
us  we  might  set  down.  This  done  him  heaps  of  good, 


i66 

and  so  he  got  cheerful  and  comfortable.  But  the 
duke  kind  of  soured  on  him,  and  didn't  look  a  bit 
satisfied  with  the  way  things  was  going ;  still,  the  king 
acted  real  friendly  towards  him,  and  said  the  duke's 
great-grandfather  and  all  the  other  Dukes  of  Bilge- 
water  was  a  good  deal  thought  of  by  his  father,  and 
was  allowed  to  come  to  the  palace  considerable ;  but 
the  duke  stayed  huffy  a  good  while  till  by-and-by 
the  king  says : 

"  Like  as  not  we  got  to  be  together  a  blamed  long 
time  on  this  h-yer  raft,  Bilgewater,  and  so  what's  the 
use  o'  your  bein'  sour?  It  '11  only  make  things  on- 
comfortable.  It  ain't  my  fault  I  warn't  born  a  duke, 
it  ain't  your  fault  you  warn't  born  a  king — so  what's 
the  use  to  worry  ?  Make  the  best  o'  things  the  way 
you  find  'em,  says  I  —  that's  my  motto.  This  ain't 
no  bad  thing  that  we've  struck  here — plenty  grub  and 
an  easy  life — come,  give  us  your  hand,  duke,  and  le's 
all  be  friends." 

The  duke  done  it,  and  Jim  and  me  was  pretty  glad 
to  see  it.  It  took  away  all  the  un comfortableness 
and  we  felt  mighty  good  over  it,  because  it  would 
a  been  a  miserable  business  to  have  any  unfriendli 
ness  on  the  raft ;  for  what  you  want,  above  all  things, 
on  a  raft,  is  for  everybody  to  be  satisfied,  and  feel 
right  arid  kind  towards  the  others. 

It  didn't  take  me  long  to  make  up  my  mind  that 
these  liars  warn't  no  kings  nor  dukes  at  all,  but  just 
low-down  humbugs  and  frauds.  But  I  never  said 
nothing,  never  let  on ;  kept  it  to  myself ;  it's  the  best 
way;  then  you  don't  have  no  quarrels,  and  don't  get 
into  no  trouble.  If  they  wanted  us  to  call  them  kings 
and  dukes,  I  hadn't  no  objections,  'long  as  it  would 


167 

keep  peace  in  the  family ;  and  it  warn't  no  use  to 
tell  Jim,  so  I  didn't  tell  him.  If  I  never  learnt 
nothing  else  out  of  pap,  I  learnt  that  the  best  way 
to  get  along  with  his  kind  of  people  is  to  let  them 
have  their  own  way. 


THEY  asked  us  considerable  many  questions ;  want 
ed  to  know  what  we  covered  up  the  raft  that  way  for, 
and  laid  by  in  the  daytime  instead  of  running — was 
Jim  a  runaway  nigger?  Says  I : 

"  Goodness  sakes !  would  a  runaway  nigger  run 
south?" 

No,  they  allowed  he  wouldn't.  I  had  to  account 
for  things  some  way,  so  I  says : 

"  My  folks  was  living  in  Pike  County,  in  Missouri, 
where  I  was  born,  and  they  all  died  off  but  me  and 
pa  and  my  brother  Ike.  Pa,  he  'lowed  he'd  break  up 
and  go  down  and  live  with  Uncle  Ben,  who's  got  a 
little  one-horse  place  on  the  river,  forty -four  mile 
below  Orleans.  Pa  was  pretty  poor,  and  had  some 
debts;  so  when  he'd  squared  up  there  warn't  noth- 
thing  left  but  sixteen  dollars  and  our  nigger,  Jim. 
That  warn't  enough  to  take  us  fourteen  hundred  mile, 
deck  passage  nor  no  other  way.  Well,  when  the  river 
rose  pa  had  a  streak  of  luck  one  day ;  he  ketched  this 
piece  of  a  raft ;  so  we  reckoned  we'd  go  down  to 
Orleans  on  it.  Pa's  luck  didn't  hold  out ;  a  steam 
boat  run  over  the  forrard  corner  of  the  raft  one 
night,  and  we  all  went  overboard  and  dove  under  the 
wheel;  Jim  and  me  come  up  all  right,  but  pa  was 
drunk,  and  Ike  was  only  four  years  old,  so  they  never 
come  up  no  more.  Well,  for  the  next  day  or  two  we 
had  considerable  trouble,  because  people  was  always 


1 69 

coming  out  in  skiffs  and  trying  to  take  Jim  away 
from  me,  saying  they  believed  he  was  a  runaway  nig 
ger.  We  don't  run  daytimes  no  more  now ;  nights 
they  don't  bother  us." 

The  duke  says : 

"  Leave  me  alone  to  cipher  out  a  way  so  we  can 
run  in  the  daytime  if  we  want  to.  I'll  think  the 
thing  over — I'll  invent  a  plan  that  '11  fix  it.  We'll 
let  it  alone  for  to-day,  because  of  course  we  don't 
want  to  go  by  that  town  yonder  in  daylight  —  it 
mightn't  be  healthy." 

Towards  night  it  begun  to  darken  up  and  look  like 
rain ;  the  heat  lightning  was  squirting  around  low 
down  in  the  sky,  and  the  leaves  was  beginning  to 
shiver — it  was  going  to  be  pretty  ugly,  it  was  easy  to 
see  that.  So  the  duke  and  the  king  went  to  over 
hauling  our  wigwam,  to  see  what  the  beds  was  like. 
My  bed  was  a  straw  tick — better  than  Jim's,  which  was 
a  corn-shuck  tick ;  there's  always  cobs  around  about 
in  a  shuck  tick,  and  they  poke  into  you  and  hurt ; 
and  when  you  roll  over  the  dry  shucks  sound  like 
you  was  rolling  over  in  a  pile  of  dead  leaves;  it 
makes  such  a  rustling  that  you  wake  up.  Well,  the 
duke  allowed  he  would  take  my  bed  ;  but  the  king 
allowed  he  wouldn't.  He  says  : 

"  I  should  a  reckoned  the  difference  in  rank  would 
a  sejested  to  you  that  a  corn -shuck  bed  warn't  just 
fitten  for  me  to  sleep  on.  Your  Grace  '11  take  the 
shuck  bed  yourself." 

Jim  and  me  was  in  a  sweat  again  for  a  minute,  be 
ing  afraid  there  was  going  to  be  some  more  trouble 
amongst  them ;  so  we  was  pretty  glad  when  the  duke 
says: 


"  "Pis  my  fate  to  be  always  ground  into  the  mire 
under  the  iron  heel  of  oppression.  Misfortune  has 
broken  my  once  haughty  spirit ;  I  yield,  I  submit ; 
'tis  my  fate.  I  am  alone  in  the  world — let  me  suffer ; 
I  can  bear  it." 

We  got  away  as  soon  as  it  was  good  and  dark.  The 
king  told  us  to  stand  well  out  towards  the  middle  of 
the  river,  and  not  show  a  light  till  we  got  a  longways 
below  the  town.  We  come  in  sight  of  the  little  bunch 
of  lights  by-and-by — that  was  the  town,  you  know — 
and  slid  by,  about  a  half  a  mile  out,  all  right.  When 
we  was  three-quarters  of  a  mile  below  we  hoisted  up 
our  signal  lantern  ;  and  about  ten  o'clock  it  come  on 
to  rain  and  blow  and  thunder  and  lighten  like  every 
thing;  so  the  king  told  us  to  both  stay  on  watch 
till  the  weather  got  better;  then  him  and  the  duke 
crawled  into  the  wigwam  and  turned  in  for  the  night. 
It  was  my  watch  below  till  twelve,  but  I  wouldn't 
a  turned  in  anyway  if  I'd  had  a  bed,  because  a  body 
don't  see  such  a  storm  as  that  every  day  in  the  week, 
not  by  a  long  sight.  My  souls,  how  the  wind  did 
scream  along !  And  every  second  or  two  there'd 
come  a  glare  that  lit  up  the  white- caps  for  a  half  a 
mile  around,  and  you'd  see  the  islands  looking  dusty 
through  the  rain,  and  the  trees  thrashing  around  in 
the  wind  ;  then  comes  a  h-wack  ! — bum!  bum!  bum- 
ble-umble-um-bum-bum-bum-bum  —  and  the  thunder 
would  go  rumbling  and  grumbling  away,  and  quit — 
and  then  rip  comes  another  flash  and  another  sock 
dolager.  The  waves  most  washed  me  off  the  raft 
sometimes,  but  I  hadn't  any  clothes  on,  and  didn't 
mind.  We  didn't  have  no  trouble  about  snags ;  the 
lightning  was  glaring  and  flittering  around  so  constant 


that  we  could  see  them  plenty  soon  enough  to  throw 
her  head  this  way  or  that  and  miss  them. 

I  had  the  middle  watch,  you  know,  but  I  was  pretty 
sleepy  by  that  time,  so  Jim  he  said  he  would  stand 
the  first  half  of  it  for  me  ;  he  was  always  mighty  good 
that  way,  Jim  was.  I  crawled  into  the  wigwam,  but 
the  king  and  the  duke  had  their  legs  sprawled  around 
so  there  warn't  no  show  for  me ;  so  I  laid  outside — I 
didn't  mind  the  rain,  because  it  was  warm,  and  the 
waves  warn't  running  so  high  now.  About  two  they 
come  up  again,  though,  and  Jim  was  going  to  call  me; 
but  he  changed  his  mind,  because  he  reckoned  they 
warn't  high  enough  yet  to  do  any  harm ;  but  he  was 
mistaken  about  that,  for  pretty  soon  all  of  a  sudden 
along  comes  a  regular  ripper  and  washed  me  over 
board.  It  most  killed  Jim  a-laughing.  He  was  the 
easiest  nigger  to  laugh  that  ever  was,  anyway. 

I  took  the  watch,  and  Jim  he  laid  down  and  snored 
away ;  and  by-and-by  the  storm  let  up  for  good  and 
all ;  and  the  first  cabin  -  light  that  showed  I  rousted 
him  out,  and  we  slid  the  raft  into  hiding-quarters  for 
the  day. 

The  king  got  out  an  old  ratty  deck  of  cards  after 
breakfast,  and  him  and  the  duke  played  seven-up  a 
while,  five  cents  a  game.  Then  they  got  tired  of  it, 
and  allowed  they  would  "  lay  out  a  campaign,"  as  they 
called  it.  The  duke  went  down  into  his  carpet-bag, 
and  fetched  up  a  lot  of  little  printed  bills  and  read 
them  out  loud.  One  bill  said,  "  The  celebrated  Dr, 
Armand  de  Montalban,  of  Paris,"  would  "  lecture  on 
the  Science  of  Phrenology  "  at  such  and  such  a  place, 
on  the  blank  day  of  blank,  at  ten  cents  admission, 
and  "  furnish  charts  of  character  at  twenty-five  cents 


apiece."  The  duke  said  that  was  him.  In  another 
bill  he  was  the  "world -renowned  Shakespearian  tra 
gedian,  Garrick  the  Younger,  of  Drury  Lane,  Lon 
don."  In  other  bills  he  had  a  lot  of  other  names  and 
done  other  wonderful  things,  like  finding  water  and 
gold  with  a  "divining-rod,"  "dissipating  witch-spells," 
and  so  on.  By-and-by  he  says : 

"  But  the  histrionic  muse  is  the  darling.  Have  you 
ever  trod  the  boards,  Royalty?" 

"  No,"  says  the  king. 

"  You  shall,  then,  before  you're  three  days  older, 
Fallen  Grandeur,"  says  the  duke.  "  The  first  good 
town  we  come  to  we'll  hire  a  hall  and  do  the  sword- 
fight  in  Richard  III.  and  the  balcony  scene  in  Romeo 
and  Juliet.  How  does  that  strike  you?" 

"  I'm  in,  up  to  the  hub,  for  anything  that  will  pay, 
Bilgewater  ;  but,  you  see,  I  don't  know  nothing  about 
play-actn',  and  hain't  ever  seen  much  of  it.  I  was  too 
small  when  pap  used  to  have  'em  at  the  palace.  Do 
you  reckon  you  can  learn  me?" 

"  Easy !" 

"All  right.  I'm  jist  a  freezn'  for  something  fresh, 
anyway.  Le's  commence  right  away." 

So  the  duke  he  told  him  all  about  who  Romeo  was 
and  who  Juliet  was,  and  said  he  was  used  to  being 
Romeo,  so  the  king  could  be  Juliet. 

"  But  if  Juliet's  such  a  young  gal,  duke,  my  peeled 
head  and  my  white  whiskers  is  goin'  to  look  oncom- 
mon  odd  on  her,  maybe." 

"  No,  don't  you  worry ;  these  country  jakes  won't 
ever  think  of  that.  Besides,  you  know,  you'll  be  in 
costume,  and  that  makes  all  the  difference  in  the 
world ;  Juliet's  in  a  balcony,  enjoying  the  moonlight 


173 

before  she  goes  to  bed,  and  she's  got  on  her  night 
gown  and  her  ruffled  nightcap.  Here  are  the  cos 
tumes  for  the  parts." 

He  got  out  two  or  three  curtain-calico  suits,  which 
he  said  was  meedyevil  armor  for  Richard  III.  and 
t'other  chap,  and  a  long  white  cotton  night-shirt  and 
a  ruffled  nightcap  to  match.  The  king  was  satis 
fied  ;  so  the  duke  got  out  his  book  and  read  the  parts 
over  in  the  most  splendid  spread-eagle  way,  prancing 
around  and  acting  at  the  same  time,  to  show  how  it 
had  got  to  be  done ;  then  he  give  the  book  to  the 
king  and  told  him  to  get  his  part  by  heart. 

There  was  a  little  one-horse  town  about  three  mile 
down  the  bend,  and  after  dinner  the  duke  said  he  had 
ciphered  out  his  idea  about  how  to  run  in  daylight 
without  it  being  dangersome  for  Jim  ;  so  he  allowed 
he  would  go  down  to  the  town  and  fix  that  thing. 
The  king  allowed  he  would  go  too,  and  see  if  he 
couldn't  strike  something.  We  was  out  of  coffee,  so 
Jim  said  I  better  go  along  with  them  in  the  canoe  and 
get  some. 

When  we  got  there  there  warn't  nobody  stirring; 
streets  empty,  and  perfectly  dead  and  still,  like  Sun 
day.  We  found  a  sick  nigger  sunning  himself  in  a 
back  yard,  and  he  said  everybody  that  warn't  too 
young  or  too  sick  or  too  old  was  gone  to  camp-meet 
ing,  about  two  mile  back  in  the  woods.  The  king 
got  the  directions,  and  allowed  he'd  go  and  work  that 
camp-meeting  for  all  it  was  worth,  and  I  might  go,  too. 

The  duke  said  what  he  was  after  was  a  printing- 
office.  We  found  it ;  a  little  bit  of  a  concern,  up  over 
a  carpenter  shop — carpenters  and  printers  all  gone  to 
the  meeting,  and  no  doors  locked.  It  was  a  dirty,  lit- 


174 

tered-up  place,  and  had  ink  marks,  and  handbills  with 
pictures  of  horses  and  runaway  niggers  on  them,  all 
over  the  walls.  The  duke  shed  his  coat  and  said  he 
was  all  right  now.  So  me  and  the  king  lit  out  for  the 
camp-meeting. 

We  got  there  in  about  a  half  an  hour  fairly  drip 
ping,  for  it  was  a  most  awful  hot  day.  There  was  as 
much  as  a  thousand  people  there  from  twenty  mile 
around.  The  woods  was  full  of  teams  and  wagons, 
hitched  everywheres,  feeding  out  of  the  wagon-troughs 
and  stomping  to  keep  off  the  flies.  There  was  sheds 
made  out  of  poles  and  roofed  over  with  branches, 
where  they  had  lemonade  and  gingerbread  to  sell, 
and  piles  of  watermelons  and  green  corn  and  such-like 
truck. 

The  preaching  was  going  on  under  the  same  kinds 
of  sheds,  only  they  was  bigger  and  held  crowds  of 
people.  The  benches  was  made  out  of  outside  slabs 
of  logs,  with  holes  bored  in  the  round  side  to  drive 
sticks  into  for  legs.  They  didn't  have  no  backs.  The 
preachers  had  high  platforms  to  stand  on  at  one  end 
of  the  sheds.  The  women  had  on  sun-bonnets ;  and 
some  had  linsey-woolsey  frocks,  some  gingham  ones, 
and  a  few  of  the  young  ones  had  on  calico.  Some  of 
the  young  men  was  barefooted,  and  some  of  the  chil 
dren  didn't  have  on  any  clothes  but  just  a  tow-linen 
shirt.  Some  of  the  old  women  was  knitting,  and  some 
of  the  young  folks  was  courting  on  the  sly. 

The  first  shed  we  come  to  the  preacher  was  lining 
out  a  hymn.  He  lined  out  two  lines,  everybody  sung 
it,  and  it  was  kind  of  grand  to  hear  it,  there  was  so 
many  of  them  and  they  done  it  in  such  a  rousing 
way ;  then  he  lined  out  two  more  for  them  to  sing — 


"COURTING   ON   THE   SLY"' 


175 

and  so  on.  The  people  woke  up  more  and  more,  and 
sung  louder  and  louder ;  and  towards  the  end  some 
begun  to  groan,  and  some  begun  to  shout.  Then  the 
preacher  begun  to  preach,  and  begun  in  earnest,  too ; 
and  went  weaving  first  to  one  side  of  the  platform 
and  then  the  other,  and  then  a-leaning  down  over  the 
front  of  it,  with  his  arms  and  his  body  going  all  the 
time,  and  shouting  his  words  out  with  all  his  might ; 
and  every  now  and  then  he  would  hold  up  his  Bible 
and  spread  it  open,  and  kind  of  pass  it  around  this 
way  and  that,  shouting,  "  It's  the  brazen  serpent  in 
the  wilderness  !  Look  upon  it  and  live  !"  And  peo 
ple  would  shout  out,  "Glory! — A-a-men/"  And  so 
he  went  on,  and  the  people  groaning  and  crying  and 
saying  amen : 

"  Oh,  come  to  the  mourners'  bench !  come,  black 
with  sin  !  (amen  /)  come,  sick  and  sore !  (amen  /)  come, 
lame  and  halt  and  blind !  (amen!']  come,  pore  and 
needy,  sunk  in  shame  !  (a-a-men!}  come,  all  that's  worn 
and  soiled  and  suffering ! — come  with  a  broken  spirit ! 
come  with  a  contrite  heart !  come  in  your  rags  and 
sin  and  dirt !  the  waters  that  cleanse  is  free,  the  door 
of  heaven  stands  open — oh,  enter  in  and  be  at  rest !" 
(a-a-men  !  glory,  glory  hallelujah  /) 

And  so  on.  You  couldn't  make  out  what  the 
preacher  said  any  more,  on  account  of  the  shouting 
and  crying.  Folks  got  up  everywheres  in  the  crowd, 
and  worked  their  way  just  by  main  strength  to  the 
mourners'  bench,  with  the  tears  running  down  their 
faces ;  and  when  all  the  mourners  had  got  up  there  to 
the  front  benches  in  a  crowd,  they  sung  and  shouted 
and  flung  themselves  down  on  the  straw,  just  crazy 
and  wild. 


Well,  the  first  I  knowed  the  king  got  a-going,  and 
you  could  hear  him  over  everybody ;  and  next  he 
went  a-charging  up  on  to  the  platform,  and  the  preach 
er  he  begged  him  to  speak  to  the  people,  and  he  done 
it.  He  told  them  he  was  a  pirate — been  a  pirate  for 
thirty  years  out  in  the  Indian  Ocean — and  his  crew 
was  thinned  out  considerable  last  spring  in  a  fight, 
and  he  was  home  now  to  take  out  some  fresh  men, 
and  thanks  to  goodness  he'd  been  robbed  last  night 
and  put  ashore  off  of  a  steamboat  without  a  cent,  and 
he  was  glad  of  it ;  it  was  the  blessedest  thing  that  ever 
happened  to  him,  because  he  was  a  changed  man  now, 
and  happy  for  the  first  time  in  his  life ;  and,  poor  as 
he  was,  he  was  going  to  start  right  off  and  work  his 
way  back  to  the  Indian  Ocean,  and  put  in  the  rest  of 
his  life  trying  to  turn  the  pirates  into  the  true  path ; 
for  he  could  do  it  better  than  anybody  else,  being 
acquainted  with  all  pirate  crews  in  that  ocean ;  and 
though  it  would  take  him  a  long  time  to  get  there 
without  money,  he  would  get  there  anyway,  and  every 
time  he  convinced  a  pirate  he  would  say  to  him, 
"  Don't  you  thank  me,  don't  you  give  me  no  credit ; 
it  all  belongs  to  them  dear  people  in  Pokeville  camp- 
meeting,  natural  brothers  and  benefactors  of  the  race, 
and  that  dear  preacher  there,  the  truest  friend  a  pirate 
ever  had !" 

And  then  he  busted  into  tears,  and  so  did  every 
body.  Then  somebody  sings  out,  "  Take  up  a  col 
lection  for  him,  take  up  a  collection !"  Well,  a  half 
a  dozen  made  a  jump  to  do  it,  but  somebody  sings 
out,  "  Let  him  pass  the  hat  around !"  Then  every 
body  said  it,  the  preacher  too. 

So  the  king  went  all  through  the  crowd  with  his 


177 

hat,  swabbing  his  eyes,  and  blessing  the  people  and 
praising  them  and  thanking  them  for  being  so  good 
to  the  poor  pirates  away  off  there ;  and  every  little 
while  the  prettiest  kind  of  girls,  with  the  tears  run 
ning  down  their  cheeks,  would  up  and  ask  him  would 
he  let  them  kiss  him  for  to  remember  him  by ;  and 
he  always  done  it ;  and  some  of  them  he  hugged  and 
kissed  as  many  as  five  or  six  times — and  he  was  in 
vited  to  stay  a  week ;  and  everybody  wanted  him  to 
live  in  their  houses,  and  said  they'd  think  it  was  an 
honor ;  but  he  said  as  this  was  the  last  day  of  the 
camp-meeting  he  couldn't  do  no  good,  and  besides  he 
was  in  a  sweat  to  get  to  the  Indian  Ocean  right  off 
and  go  to  work  on  the  pirates. 

When  we  got  back  to  the  raft  and  he  come  to  count 
up  he  found  he  had  collected  eighty-seven  dollars  and 
seventy-five  cents.  And  then  he  had  fetched  away  a 
three-gallon  jug  of  whiskey,  too,  that  he  found  under  a 
wagon  when  he  was  starting  home  through  the  woods. 
The  king  said,  take  it  all  around,  it  laid  over  any  day 
he'd  ever  put  in  in  the  missionarying  line.  He  said 
it  warn't  no  use  talking,  heathens  don't  amount  to 
shucks  alongside  of  pirates  to  work  a  camp -meeting 
with. 

The  duke  was  thinking  hid  been  doing  pretty  well 
till  the  king  come  to  show  up,  but  after  that  he  didn't 
think  so  so  much.  He  had  set  up  and  printed  off  two 
little  jobs  for  farmers  in  that  printing-office — horse 
bills — and  took  the  money,  four  dollars.  And  he 
had  got  in  ten  dollars'  worth  of  advertisements  for 
the  paper,  which  he  said  he  would  put  in  for  four 
dollars  if  they  would  pay  in  advance — so  they  done 
it.  The  price  of  the  paper  was  two  dollars  a  year, 


12  HF 


178 

but  he  took  in  three  subscriptions  for  half  a  dol 
lar  apiece  on  condition  of  them  paying  him  in  ad 
vance;  they  were  going  to  pay  in  cord -wood  and 
onions  as  usual,  but  he  said  he  had  just  bought  the 
concern  and  knocked  down  the  price  as  low  as  he 
could  afford  it,  and  was  going  to  run  it  for  cash.  He 
set  up  a  little  piece  of  poetry,  which  he  made,  himself, 
out  of  his  own  head — three  verses — kind  of  sweet  and 
saddish — the  name  of  it  was,  "  Yes,  crush,  cold  world, 
this  breaking  heart " — and  he  left  that  all  set  up  and 
ready  to  print  in  the  paper,  and  didn't  charge  nothing 
for  it.  Well,  he  took  in  nine  dollars  and  a  half,  and 
said  he'd  done  a  pretty  square  day's  work  for  it. 

Then  he  showed  us  another  little  job  he'd  printed 
and  hadn't  charged  for,  because  it  was  for  us.  It  had 
a  picture  of  a  runaway  nigger  with  a  bundle  on  a 
stick  over  his  shoulder,  and  "  $200  reward  "  under  it. 
The  reading  was  all  about  Jim,  and  just  described  him 
to  a  dot.  It  said  he  run  away  from  St.  Jacques'  plan 
tation,  forty  mile  below  New  Orleans,  last  winter,  and 
likely  went  north,  and  whoever  would  catch  him  and 
send  him  back  he  could  have  the  reward  and  ex 
penses. 

"  Now,"  says  the  duke,  "  after  to-night  we  can  run 
in  the  daytime  if  we  want  to.  Whenever  we  see  any 
body  coming  we  can  tie  Jim  hand  and  foot  with  a 
rope,  and  lay  him  in  the  wigwam  and  show  this  hand 
bill  and  say  we  captured  him  up  the  river,  and  were 
too  poor  to  travel  on  a  steamboat,  so  we  got  this  lit 
tle  raft  on  credit  from  our  friends  and  are  going  down 
to  get  the  reward.  Handcuffs  and  chains  would  look 
still  better  on  Jim,  but  it  wouldn't  go  well  with  the 
story  of  us  being  so  poor.  Too  much  like  jewelry. 


179 

Ropes  are  the  correct  thing — we  must  preserve  the 
unities,  as  we  say  on  the  boards." 

We  all  said  the  duke  was  pretty  smart,  and  there 
couldn't  be  no  trouble  about  running  daytimes.  We 
judged  we  could  make  miles  enough  that  night  to 
get  out  of  the  reach  of  the  powwow  we  reckoned  the 
duke's  work  in  the  printing-office  was  going  to  make 
in  that  little  town ;  then  we  could  boom  right  along 
if  we  wanted  to. 

We  laid  low  and  kept  still,  and  never  shoved  out  till 
nearly  ten  o'clock  ;  then  we  slid  by,  pretty  wide  away 
from  the  town,  and  didn't  hoist  our  lantern  till  we  was 
clear  out  of  sight  of  it. 

When  Jim  called  me  to  take  the  watch  at  four  in 
the  morning,  he  says  : 

"  Huck,  does  you  reck'n  we  gwyne  to  run  acrost 
any  mo'  kings  on  dis  trip  ?" 

"  No,"  I  says,  "  I  reckon  not." 

"  Well,"  says  he,  "  dat's  all  right,  den.  I  doan'  mine 
one  er  two  kings,  but  dat's  enough.  Dis  one's  power 
ful  drunk,  en  de  duke  ain'  much  better." 

I  found  Jim  had  been  trying  to  get  him  to  talk 
French,  so  he  could  hear  what  it  was  like  -,  but  he  said 
he  had  been  in  this  country  so  long,  and  had  so  much 
trouble,  he'd  forgot  it. 


CHAPTER  XXI 

IT  was  after  sun-up  now,  but  we  went  right  on  and 
didn't  tie  up.  The  king  and  the  duke  turned  out  by- 
and-by  looking  pretty  rusty ;  but  after  they'd  jumped 
overboard  and  took  a  swim  it  chippered  them  up  a 
good  deal.  After  breakfast  the  king  he  took  a  seat 
on  the  corner  of  the  raft,  and  pulled  off  his  boots  and 
rolled  up  his  britches,  and  let  his  legs  dangle  in  the 
water,  so  as  to  be  comfortable,  and  lit  his  pipe,  and 
went  to  getting  his  Romeo  and  Juliet  by  heart.  When 
he  had  got  it  pretty  good  him  and  the  duke  begun  to 
practise  it  together.  The  duke  had  to  learn  him  over 
and  over  again  how  to  say  every  speech  ;  and  he  made 
him  sigh,  and  put  his  hand  on  his  heart,  and  after  a 
while  he  said  he  done  it  pretty  well ;  "  only,"  he  says, 
"  you  mustn't  bellow  out  Romeo  !  that  way,  like  a  bull 
— you  must  say  it  soft  and  sick  and  languishy,  so — 
R-o-o-meo  !  that  is  the  idea;  for  Juliet's  a  dear  sweet 
mere  child  of  a  girl,  you  know,  and  she  doesn't  bray 
like  a  jackass." 

Well,  next  they  got  out  a  couple  of  long  swords 
that  the  duke  made  out  of  oak  laths,  and  begun  to 
practise  the  sword  -  fight  —  the  duke  called  himself 
Richard  III.;  and  the  way  they  laid  on  and  pranced 
around  the  raft  was  grand  to  see.  But  by -and -by 
the  king  tripped  and  fell  overboard,  and  after  that 
they  took  a  rest,  and  had  a  talk  about  all  kinds 


of  adventures  they'd  had  in  other  times  along  the 
river. 

After  dinner  the  duke  says : 

"  Well,  Capet,  we'll  want  to  make  this  a  first-class 
show,  you  know,  so  I  "guess  we'll  add  a  little  more  to 
it.  We  want  a  little  something  to  answer  encores  with, 
anyway." 

"  What's  onkores,  Bilgewater  ?" 

The  duke  told  him,  and  then  says : 

"  I'll  answer  by  doing  the  Highland  fling  or  the  sail 
or's  horn-pipe  ;  and  you — well,  let  me  see — oh,  I've 
got  it — you  can  do  Hamlet's  soliloquy." 

"  Hamlet's  which  ?" 

"  Hamlet's  soliloquy,  you  know ;  the  most  cele 
brated  thing  in  Shakespeare.  Ah,  it's  sublime,  sub 
lime  !  Always  fetches  the  house.  I  haven't  got  it  in 
the  book — I've  only  got  one  volume — but  I  reckon  I 
can  piece  it  out  from  memory.  I'll  just  walk  up  and 
down  a  minute,  and  see  if  I  can  call  it  back  from  rec 
ollection's  vaults." 

So  he  went  to  marching  up  and  down,  thinking, 
and  frowning  horrible  every  now  and  then ;  then  he 
would  hoist  up  his  eyebrows ;  next  he  would  squeeze 
his  hand  on  his  forehead  and  stagger  back  and  kind 
of  moan  ;  next  he  would  sigh,  and  next  he'd  let  on  to 
drop  a  tear.  It  was  beautiful  to  see  him.  By-and-by 
he  got  it.  He  told  us  to  give  attention.  Then  he 
strikes  a  most  noble  attitude,  with  one  leg  shoved  for 
wards,  and  his  arms  stretched  away  up,  and  his  head 
tilted  back,  looking  up  at  the  sky  ;  and  then  he  begins 
to  rip  and  rave  and  grit  his  teeth  ;  and  after  that,  all 
through  his  speech,  he  howled,  and  spread  around,  and 
swelled  up  his  chest,  and  just  knocked  the  spots  out  of 


1 82 

any  acting  ever  /  see  before.  This  is  the  speech — I 
learned  it,  easy  enough,  while  he  was  learning  it  to  the 
king: 

To  be,  or  not  to  be ;  that  is  the  bare  bodkin 

That  makes  calamity  of  so  long  life ; 

For  who  would  fardels  bear,  till  Birnam  Wood  do  come  to 

Dunsinane, 

But  that  the  fear  of  something  after  death 
Murders  the  innocent  sleep, 
Great  nature's  second  course, 

And  makes  us  rather  sling  the  arrows  of  outrageous  fortune 
Than  fly  to  others  that  we  know  not  of. 
There's  the  respect  must  give  us  pause : 
Wake  Duncan  with  thy  knocking!    I  would  thou  couldst; 
For  who  would  bear  the  whips  and  scorns  of  time, 
The  oppressor's  wrong,  the  proud  man's  contumely, 
The  law's  delay,  and  the   quietus   which   his   pangs   might 

take, 
In  the  dead  waste  and  middle  of  the  night,  when  churchyards 

yawn 

In  customary  suits  of  solemn  black, 
But  that  the  undiscovered  country  from  whose  bourne  no 

traveler  returns, 

Breathes  forth  contagion  on  the  world, 
And  thus  the  native  hue  of  resolution,  like  the  poor  cat  i'  the 

adage, 

Is  sicklied  o'er  with  care, 

And  all  the  clouds  that  lowered  o'er  our  housetops, 
With  this  regard  their  currents  turn  awry, 
And  lose  the  name  of  action. 
Tis  a  consummation  devoutly  to  be  wished.     But  soft  you, 

the  fair  Ophelia: 

Ope  not  thy  ponderous  and  marble  jaws, 
But  get  thee  to  a  nunnery — go  ! 


HAMLET  S    SOLILOQUY 


183 

Well,  the  old  man  he  liked  that  speech,' and  he 
mighty  soon  got  it  so  he  could  do  it  first-rate.  It 
seemed  like  he  was  just  born  for  it ;  and  when  he  had 
his  hand  in  and  was  excited,  it  was  perfectly  lovely 
the  way  he  would  rip  and  tear  and  rair  up  behind 
when  he  was  getting  it  off. 

The  first  chance  we  got  the  duke  he  had  some  show 
bills  printed ;  and  after  that,  for  two  or  three  days  as 
we  floated  along,  the  raft  was  a  most  uncommon  live 
ly  place,  for  there  warn't  nothing  but  sword-fighting 
and  rehearsing — as  the  duke  called  it — going  on  all 
the  time.  One  morning,  when  we  was  pretty  well 
down  the  State  of  Arkansaw,  we  come  in  sight  of  a 
little  one-horse  town  in  a  big  bend ;  so  we  tied  up 
about  three-quarters  of  a  mile  above  it,  in  the  mouth 
of  a  crick  which  was  shut  in  like  a  tunnel  by  the  cy 
press-trees,  and  all  of  us  but  Jim  took  the  canoe  and 
went  down  there  to  see  if  there  was  any  chance  in 
that  place  for  our  show. 

We  struck  it  mighty  lucky;  there  was  going  to  be 
a  circus  there  that  afternoon,  and  the  country  people 
was  already  beginning  to  come  in,  in  all  kinds  of  old 
shackly  wagons,  and  on  horses.  The  circus  would  leave 
before  night,  so  our  show  would  have  a  pretty  good 
chance.  The  duke  he  hired  the  court-house,  and  we 
went  around  and  stuck  up  our  bills.  They  read  like 
this: 


1 84 


Shaksperean  Revival    !    !    ! 

Wonderful  Attraction ! 

For  One  Night  Only ! 

The  world  renowned  tragedians, 

David  Garrick  the  younger,  of  Drury  Lane  Theatre,  London, 

and 

Edmund  Kean  the  elder,  of  the  Royal  Haymarket  Theatre, 

Whitechapel,  Pudding  Lane,  Piccadilly,  London,  and  the 

Royal  Continental  Theatres,  in  their  sublime 

Shaksperean  Spectacle  entitled 

The  Balcony  Scene 

in 
Romeo  and  Juliet  !    !    ! 

Romeo Mr.  Garrick 

Juliet Mr.  Kean 

Assisted  by  the  whole  strength  of  the  company ! 
New  costumes,  new  scenery,  new  appointments ! 

Also : 
The  thrilling,  masterly,  and  blood-curdling 

Broad-sword  conflict 
In  Richard  III.   !    !    ! 

Richard  III Mr.  Garrick 

Richmond Mr.  Kean 

Also: 

(by  special  request) 
Hamlet's  Immortal  Soliloquy  !    ! 

By  the  Illustrious  Kean  ! 
Done  by  him  300  consecutive  nights  in  Paris  ! 

For  One  Night  Only, 

On  account  of  imperative  European  engagements! 
Admission  25  cents ;  children  and  servants,  10  cents. 


Then  we  went  loafing  around  town.  The  stores 
and  houses  was  most  all  old,  shackly,  dried-up  frame 
concerns  that  hadn't  ever  been  painted ;  they  was  set 
up  three  or  four  foot  above  ground  on  stilts,  so  as  to 
be  out  of  reach  of  the  water  when  the  river  was  over 
flowed.  The  houses  had  little  gardens  around  them, 
but  they  didn't  seem  to  raise  hardly  anything  in  them 
but  jimpson- weeds,  and  sunflowers,  and  ash -piles, 
and  old  curled-up  boots  and  shoes,  and  pieces  of  bot 
tles,  and  rags,  and  played-out  tin-ware.  The  fences 
was  made  of  different  kinds  of  boards,  nailed  on  at  dif 
ferent  times ;  and  they  leaned  every  which  way,  and 
had  gates  that  didn't  generly  have  but  one  hinge — 
a  leather  one.  Some  of  the  fences  had  been  white 
washed  some  time  or  another,  but  the  duke  said  it 
was  in  Clumbus's  time,  like  enough.  There  was 
generly  hogs  in  the  garden,  and  people  driving  them 
out. 

All  the  stores  was  along  one  street.  They  had 
white  domestic  awnings  in  front,  and  the  country  peo 
ple  hitched  their  horses  to  the  awning-posts.  There 
was  empty  dry-goods  boxes  under  the  awnings,  and 
loafers  roosting  on  them  all  day  long,  whittling  them 
with  their  Barlow  knives ;  and  chawing  tobacco,  and 
gaping  and  yawning  and  stretching — a  mighty  ornery 
lot.  They  generly  had  on  yellow  straw  hats  most  as 
wide  as  an  umbrella,  but  didn't  wear  no  coats  nor 
waistcoats  ;  they  called  one  another  Bill,  and  Buck, 
and  Hank,  and  Joe,  and  Andy,  and  talked  lazy  and 
drawly,  and  used  considerable  many  cuss  words.  There 
was  as  many  as  one  loafer  leaning  up  against  every 
awning-post,  and  he  most  always  had  his  hands  in  his 
britches-pockets,  except  when  he  fetched  them  out  to 


1 86 


lend  a  chaw  of  tobacco  or  scratch.    What  a  body  was 
hearing  amongst  them  all  the  time  was : 
"  Gimme  a  chaw  V  tobacker,  Hank." 
"  Cain't ;  I  hain't  got  but  one  chaw  left.    Ask  Bill." 
Maybe  Bill  he  gives  him  a  chaw  ;  maybe  he  lies  and 
says  he  ain't  got  none.     Some  of  them  kinds  of  loaf 
ers  never  has  a  cent  in  the  world,  nor  a  chaw  of  to 
bacco  of  their  own.     They  get  all  their  chawing  by 
borrowing ;  they  say  to  a  fellow,  "  I  wisht  you'd  len' 
me  a  chaw,  Jack,  I  jist  this  minute  give  Ben  Thomp 
son  the  last  chaw  I  had  " — which  is  a  lie  pretty  much 
every  time  ;  it  don't  fool  nobody  but  a  stranger  ;  but 
Jack  ain't  no  stranger,  so  he  says  : 

"  You  give  him  a  chaw,  did  you  ?  So  did  your  sis 
ter's  cat's  grandmother.  You  pay  me  back  the  chaws 
you've  awready  borry'd  off'n  me,  Lafe  Buckner,  then 
I'll  loan  you  one  or  two  ton  of  it,  and  won't  charge 
you  no  back  intrust,  nuther." 

"  Well,  I  did  pay  you  back  some  of  it  wunst." 
"  Yes,  you  did — 'bout  six  chaws.    You  borry'd  store 
tobacker  and  paid  back  nigger-head." 

Store  tobacco  is  flat  black  plug,  but  these  fellows 
mostly  chaws  the  natural  leaf  twisted.  When  they 
borrow  a  chaw  they  don't  generly  cut  it  off  with  a 
knife,  but  set  the  plug  in  between  their  teeth,  and 
gnaw  with  their  teeth  and  tug  at  the  plug  with  their 
hands  till  they  get  it  in  two  ;  then  sometimes  the  one 
that  owns  the  tobacco  looks  mournful  at  it  when  it's 
handed  back,  and  says,  sarcastic : 

"  Here,  gimme  the  chaw,  and  you  take  the //#£•." 
All  the  streets  and  lanes  was  just  mud ;  they  warn't 
nothing  else  but  mud — mud  as  black  as  tar  and  nigh 
about  a  foot  deep  in  some  places,  and  two  or  three 


"  '  GIMME   A   CHAW' 


inches  deep  in  all  the  places.  The  hogs  loafed  and 
grunted  around  everywheres.  You'd  see  a  muddy 
sow  and  a  litter  of  pigs  come  lazying  along  the  street 
and  whollop  herself  right  down  in  the  way,  where  folks 
had  to  walk  around  her,  and  she'd  stretch  out  and  shut 
her  eyes  and  wave  her  ears  whilst  the  pigs  was  milk 
ing  her,  and  look  as  happy  as  if  she  was  on  salary. 
And  pretty  soon  you'd  hear  a  loafer  sing  out,  "  Hi !  so 
boy !  sick  him,  Tige !"  and  away  the  sow  would  go, 
squealing  most  horrible,  with  a  dog  or  two  swinging 
to  each  ear,  and  three  or  four  dozen  more  a-coming ; 
and  then  you  would  see  all  the  loafers  get  up  and 
watch  the  thing  out  of  sight,  and  laugh  at  the  fun  and 
look  grateful  for  the  noise.  Then  they'd  settle  back 
again  till  there  was  a  dog-fight.  There  couldn't  any 
thing  wake  them  up  all  over,  and  make  them  happy 
all  over,  like  a  dog-fight — unless  it  might  be  putting 
turpentine  on  a  stray  dog  and  setting  fire  to  him,  or 
tying  a  tin  pan  to  his  tail  and  see  him  run  himself  to 
death. 

On  the  river-front  some  of  the  houses  was  sticking 
out  over  the  bank,  and  they  was  bowed  and  bent,  and 
about  ready  to  tumble  in.  The  people  had  moved 
out  of  them.  The  bank  was  caved  away  under  one 
corner  of  some  others,  and  that  corner  was  hanging 
over.  People  lived  in  them  yet,  but  it  was  danger- 
some,  because  sometimes  a  strip  of  land  as  wide  as  a 
house  caves  in  at  a  time.  Sometimes  a  belt  of  land 
a  quarter  of  a  mile  deep  will  start  in  and  cave  along 
and  cave  along  till  it  all  caves  into  the  river  in  one 
summer.  Such  a  town  as  that  has  to  be  always  mov 
ing  back,  and  back,  and  back,  because  the  river's  al 
ways  gnawing  at  it. 


1 88 


The  nearer  it  got  to  noon  that  day  the  thicker  and 
thicker  was  the  wagons  and  horses  in  the  streets,  and 
more  coming  all  the  time.  Families  fetched  their 
dinners  with  them  from  the  country,  and  eat  them  in 
the  wagons.  There  was  considerable  whiskey-drink 
ing  going  on,  and  I  seen  three  fights.  By -and -by 
somebody  sings  out : 

"  Here  comes  old  Boggs ! — in  from  the  country  for 
his  little  old  monthly  drunk  ;  here  he  comes,  boys !" 

All  the  loafers  looked  glad ;  I  reckoned  they  was 
used  to  having  fun  out  of  Boggs.  One  of  them  says : 

"  Wonder  who  he's  a-gwyne  to  chaw  up  this  time. 
If  he'd  a-chawed  up  all  the  men  he's  ben  a  gwyne  to 
chaw  up  in  the  last  twenty  year  he'd  have  considera 
ble  ruputation  now." 

Another  one  says, "  I  wisht  old  Boggs  'd  threaten 
me,  'cuz  then  I'd  know  I  warn't  gwyne  to  die  for  a 
thousan'  year." 

Boggs  comes  a-tearing  along  on  his  horse,  whooping 
and  yelling  like  an  Injun,  and  singing  out : 

"  Cler  the  track,  thar.  I'm  on  the  waw-path,  and 
the  price  uv  coffins  is  a-gwyne  to  raise." 

He  was  drunk,  and  weaving  about  in  his  saddle ; 
he  was  over  fifty  year  old,  and  had  a  very  red  face. 
Everybody  yelled  at  him  and  laughed  at  him  and 
sassed  him,  and  he  sassed  back,  and  said  he'd  attend 
to  them  and  lay  them  out  in  their  regular  turns,  but 
ne  couldn't  wait  now  because  he'd  come  to  town  to 
kill  old  Colonel  Sherburn,  and  his  motto  was,  "  Meat 
first,  and  spoon  vittles  to  top  off  on." 

He  see  me,  and  rode  up  and  says: 

"  Whar'd  you  come  f'm,  boy  ?  You  prepared  to 
die?" 


Then  he  rode  on.     I  was  scared,  but  a  man  says : 

"  He  don't  mean  nothing ;  he's  always  a-carryin'  on 
like  that  when  he's  drunk.  He's  the  best-naturedest 
old  fool  in  Arkansaw — never  hurt  nobody,  drunk  nor 
sober." 

Boggs  rode  up  before  the  biggest  stove  in  town,  and 
bent  his  head  down  so  he  could  see  under  the  curtain 
of  the  awning  and  yells  : 

"  Come  out  here,  Sherburn  !  Come  out  and  meet 
the  man  you've  swindled.  You're  the  houn'  I'm  after, 
and  I'm  a-gwyne  to  have  you,  too !" 

And  so  he  went  on,  calling  Sherburn  everything  he 
could  lay  his  tongue  to,  and  the  whole  street  packed 
with  people  listening  and  laughing  and  going  on.  By- 
and-by  a  proud-looking  man  about  fifty-five — and  he 
was  a  heap  the  best-dressed  man  in  that  town,  too — 
steps  out  of  the  store,  and  the  crowd  drops  back  on 
each  side  to  let  him  come.  He  says  to  Boggs,  mighty 
ca'm  and  slow — he  says : 

"  I'm  tired  of  this,  but  I'll  endure  it  till  one  o'clock. 
Till  one  o'clock,  mind — no  longer.  If  you  open  your 
mouth  against  me  only  once  after  that  time  you  can't 
travel  so  far  but  I  will  find  you." 

Then  he  turns  and  goes  in.  The  crowd  looked 
mighty  sober;  nobody  stirred,  and  there  warn't  no 
more  laughing.  Boggs  rode  off  blackguarding  Sher 
burn  as  loud  as  he  could  yell,  all  down  the  street ;  and 
pretty  soon  back  he  comes  and  stops  before  the  store, 
still  keeping  it  up.  Some  men  crowded  around  him 
and  tried  to  get  him  to  shut  up,  but  he  wouldn't; 
they  told  him  it  would  be  one  o'clock  in  about  fifteen 
minutes,  and  so  he  must  go  home — he  must  go  right 
away.  But  it  didn't  do  no  good.  He  cussed  away 


with  all  his  might,  and  throwed  his  hat  down  in  the 
mud  and  rode  over  it,  and  pretty  soon  away  he  went 
a -raging  down  the  street  again,  with  his  gray  hair 
a-flying.  Everybody  that  could  get  a  chance  at  him 
tried  their  best  to  coax  him  off  of  his  horse  so  they 
could  lock  him  up  and  get  him  sober  ;  but  it  warn't  no 
use — up  the  street  he  would  tear  again,  and  give  Sher- 
burn  another  cussing.  By-and-by  somebody  says  : 

"  Go  for  his  daughter ! — quick,  go  for  his  daughter ; 
sometimes  he'll  listen  to  her.  If  anybody  can  per 
suade  him,  she  can." 

So  somebody  started  on  a  run.  I  walked  down- 
street  a  ways  and  stopped.  In  about  five  or  ten  min 
utes  here  comes  Boggs  again,  but  not  on  his  horse. 
He  was  a-reeling  across  the  street  towards  me,  bare 
headed,  with  a  friend  on  both  sides  of  him  a-holt  of 
his  arms  and  hurrying  him  along.  He  was  quiet,  and 
looked  uneasy ;  and  he  warn't  hanging  back  any,  but 
was  doing  some  of  the  hurrying  himself.  Somebody 
sings  out : 

"  Boggs !" 

I  looked  over  there  to  see  who  said  it,  and  it  was 
that  Colonel  Sherburn.  He  was  standing  perfectly 
still  in  the  street,  and  had  a  pistol  raised  in  his  right 
hand — not  aiming  it,  but  holding  it  out  with  the 
barrel  tilted  up  towards  the  sky.  The  same  second 
I  see  a  young  girl  coming  on  the  run,  and  two  men 
with  her.  Boggs  and  the  men  turned  round  to  see 
who  called  him,  and  when  they  see  the  pistol  the 
men  jumped  to  one  side,  and  the  pistol-barrel  come 
down  slow  and  steady  to  a  level — both  barrels  cocked. 
Boggs  throws  up  both  of  his  hands  and  says,  "  O 
Lord,  don't  shoot!"  Bang!  goes  the  first  shot,  and 


he  staggers  back,  clawing  at  the  air — bang !  goes  the 
second  one,  and  he  tumbles  backwards  on  to  the 
ground,  heavy  and  solid,  with  his  arms  spread  out. 
That  young  girl  screamed  out  and  comes  rushing, 
and  down  she  throws  herself  on  her  father,  crying, 
and  saying,  "  Oh,  he's  killed  him,  he's  killed  him !" 
The  crowd  closed  up  around  them,  and  shouldered 
and  jammed  one  another,  with  their  necks  stretched, 
trying  to  see,  and  people  on  the  inside  trying  to  shove 
them  back  and  shouting,  "  Back,  back  !  give  him  air, 
give  him  air!" 

Colonel  Sherburn  he  tossed  his  pistol  on  to  the 
ground,  and  turned  around  on  his  heels  and  walked 
off. 

They  took  Boggs  to  a  little  drug-store,  the  crowd 
pressing  around  just  the  same,  and  the  whole  town 
following,  and  I  rushed  and  got  a  good  place  at 
the  window,  where  I  was  close  to  him  and  could  see 
in.  They  laid  him  on  the  floor  and  put  one  large 
Bible  under  his  head,  and  opened  another  one  and 
spread  it  on  his  breast ;  but  they  tore  open  his  shirt 
first,  and  I  seen  where  one  of  the  bullets  went  in.  He 
made  about  a  dozen  long  gasps,  his  breast  lifting  the 
Bible  up  when  he  drawed  in  his  breath,  and  letting  it 
down  again  when  he  breathed  it  out — and  after  that 
he  laid  still ;  he  was  dead.  Then  they  pulled  his 
daughter  away  from  him,  screaming  and  crying,  and 
took  her  off.  She  was  about  sixteen,  and  very  sweet 
and  gentle-looking,  but  awful  pale  and  scared. 

Well,  pretty  soon  the  whole  town  was  there,  squirm 
ing  and  scrouging  and  pushing  and  shoving  to  get  at 
the  window  and  have  a  look,  but  people  that  had  the 
places  wouldn't  give  them  up,  and  folks  behind  them 


192 

was  saying  all  the  time,  "  Say,  now,  you've  looked 
enough,  you  fellows ;  'tain't  right  and  'tain't  fair  for 
you  to  stay  thar  all  the  time,  and  never  give  nobody 
a  chance ;  other  folks  has  their  rights  as  well  as  you." 

There  was  considerable  jawing  back,  so  I  slid  out, 
thinking  maybe  there  was  going  to  be  trouble.  The 
streets  was  full,  and  everybody  was  excited.  Every 
body  that  seen  the  shooting  was  telling  how  it  hap 
pened,  and  there  was  a  big  crowd  packed  around  each 
one  of  these  fellows,  stretching  their  necks  and  listen 
ing.  One  long,  lanky  man,  with  long  hair  and  a  big 
white  fur  stove-pipe  hat  on  the  back  of  his  head,  and 
a  crooked-handled  cane,  marked  out  the  places  on  the 
ground  where  Boggs  stood  and  where  Sherburn  stood, 
and  the  people  following  him  around  from  one  place 
to  t'other  and  watching  everything  he  done,  and  bob 
bing  their  heads  to  show  they  understood,  and  stoop 
ing  a  little  and  resting  their  hands  on  their  thighs 
to  watch  him  mark  the  places  on  the  ground  with  his 
cane ;  and  then  he  stood  up  straight  and  stiff  where 
Sherburn  had  stood,  frowning  and  having  his  hat- 
brim  down  over  his  eyes  and  sung  out,  "  Boggs !"  and 
then  fetched  his  cane  down  slow  to  a  level,  and  says 
"  Bang !"  staggered  backwards,  says  "  Bang !"  again, 
and  fell  down  flat  on  his  back.  The  people  that  had 
seen  the  thing  said  he  done  it  perfect ;  said  it  was  just 
exactly  the  way  it  all  happened.  Then  as  much  as  a 
dozen  people  got  out  their  bottles  and  treated  him. 

Well,  by-and-by  somebody  said  Sherburn  ought  to 
be  lynched.  In  about  a  minute  everybody  was  saying 
it ;  so  away  they  went,  mad  and  yelling,  and  snatch 
ing  down  every  clothes-line  they  come  to  to  do  the 
hanging  with. 


CHAPTER  XXII 

THEY  swarmed  up  the  street  towards  Sherburn's 
house,  a-whooping  and  raging  like  Injuns,  and  every 
thing  had  to  clear  the  way  or  get  run  over  and  tromped 
to  mush,  and  it  was  awful  to  see.  Children  was  heel 
ing  it  ahead  of  the  mob,  screaming  and  trying  to 
get  out  of  the  way ;  and  every  window  along  the 
road  was  full  of  women's  heads,  and  there  was  nigger 
boys  in  every  tree,  and  bucks  and  wenches  looking 
over  every  fence  ;  and  as  soon  as  the  mob  would  get 
nearly  to  them  they  would  break  and  skaddle  back 
out  of  reach.  Lots  of  the  women  and  girls  was  cry 
ing  and  taking  on,  scared  most  to  death. 

They  swarmed  up  in  front  of  Sherburn's  palings  as 
thick  as  they  could  jam  together,  and  you  couldn't 
hear  yourself  think  for  the  noise.  It  was  a  little 
twenty-foot  yard.  Some  sung  out  "  Tear  down  the 
fence!  tear  down  the  fence  !"  Then  there  was  a  racket 
of  ripping  and  tearing  and  smashing,  and  down  she 
goes,  and  the  front  wall  of  the  crowd  begins  to  roll  in 
like  a  wave. 

Just  then  Sherburn  steps  out  on  to  the  roof  of  his 
little  front  porch,  with  a  double-barrel  gun  in  his 
hand,  and  takes  his  stand,  perfectly  ca'm  and  deliber 
ate,  not  saying  a  word.  The  racket  stopped,  and  the 
wave  sucked  back. 

Sherburn  never  said  a  word — just  stood  there,  look- 
is  HF 


